Heirlooms
by Johnttf
Summary: The first installment of the Posterity Series. Set 14 years after the Battle of Hogwarts, Ellinor Grayson and four other Hogwarts students must find answers when tragedy strikes the school. The five students reflect on the things our parents give us.
1. Chapter 1: Compartment

Disclaimer: The Universe and the people you recognize belong to J.K. Rowling. The original characters belong to me.

A/N: This story is mostly canon. The main difference is that I've ignored the epilogue. Any canonical issues outside of that are likely mistakes but let's pretend they were intentional.

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Chapter 1: Compartment

Linor

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My Dad is going to die. Everyone thinks of their own mortality, and I have thought about how I will go out. It had never really registered though that my parents were just as mortal as I was. As I kiss him on the cheek, I wonder if I will see him again. It is enough of a shock that he was able to come see me off; that he has recovered that much, but the sickness may return. Will he live until Christmas? For the first time, I feel the pain of separation as I board the Hogwarts Express. Even two years ago, I found it easy to wave goodbye to my parents as they shrank into the horizon. Now it hurts, because my dad may have disappeared for good.

I walk from car to car trying to find an empty compartment. I pass acquaintances, classmates, but no friends. There aren't really any to pass. My brother takes a seat with the other 5th year boys in his house and I am alone. It isn't strange or frightening. It is simply the status quo. I enter a virtually empty car; only one compartment is filled. I slide into the opposite compartment and close the door to shut out the laughing and chatting from across the aisle. I feel like screaming, crying, and just curling up and going to sleep all at once. I don't know how James handled it. Doesn't he understand that this may be it? He claims it's all in my head, that Dad is cured. He is wrong. I can feel this truth eating me from the inside. Death is no less painful when you see it coming. In fact, it just carries on longer.

I think of Mom. What will she do if he relapses? I won't be there to keep her strong. I pull out a sheet of parchment and a quill to write David for the fifth time. This time I don't stop myself.

_David,_

_I hope you've found what you're looking for in the great expanse of the world because I need you to come home. The disease will come back, and he'll need one of his children with him. I know it's selfish of me to place this burden on you, but James and I are at school. As much as I'd like to drop everything and run to his side, I can't…._

A wet mark appears on the parchment. At some point I started crying. The fact that I can't help him ways heavily on me.

_I know he's not your favorite person in the world, but he needs you, and Mom does, too. You have the strength and spirit to…._

"This is my compartment," a voice announces from the door of the compartment. I look up and see Teddy Tonks, glaring me down. His hair, longer than it had been, but still black, begins to rise. His stare is powerful; eyes deep red like mine must be from crying. It takes me a moment to register what he had said.

"Your compartment?" I reply dumbfounded.

"I sit here every time!" he seethes, anger growing every moment.

"No one's stopping you," I reply gesturing to an empty seat. He looks at me as though I've insulted his mother. His dead mother, I have to remind myself. His parents are the only reason I know who he is, that and his discipline record. He has gotten into more fights then anyone in the last ten years. I wonder if I will become like this, angry because my dad is dead. I realize that I won't. I'll simply fade away.

"Ok," I say rising from my seat, "have your precious compartment." Is this pity that's letting him have his way? I brush past him to get out of the compartment. I feel him tense as I make contact.

"Hey!" he yells, "Don't Touch Me!" I turn in time for him to push me through the door of the compartment across the aisle and into the lap of Mark Lawrence. On any other day, finding my self in Mark Lawrence's lap would be great luck. He is incredibly attractive and the summer had made him even more so. He looks at me with his golden eyes and asks if I'm okay. In normal circumstances I would melt. Not that I have feelings for him, he's just gorgeous. Today, however, I have no opinion about his involvement in this scenario. He helps me to my feet, but I brush him off. I turn to Teddy and send daggers at him. No one pushes a Grayson and gets away with it, no one.

I'm aware as my fist connects with his jaw that this is probably just me taking out my pent up frustration, but I don't care. I throw my self into this fight with wild abandon. "Are you two really this stupid?" A voice inquires from behind me. Based on the sarcastic tone and the fact that Mark is there, it likely belongs to Jones Wilson, his best friend and fellow Chaser.

"Really guys," a boy announces as he tries to separate Teddy and me, "cool down." Teddy simply pushes the boy, whom I recognize as Alex Smith, away. I take advantage of his distraction from me to land a good hit which sends him to the floor. My brothers taught me to fight, like many younger sisters. Unlike most, though, my dad encouraged them. He wanted me to be able to defend myself when I need to. This thought hurts. His methods no longer imply supportive, fun dad. Now it seems he has been spending my entire life preparing me for life without him. That's really all parenting is. Preparing your child for your death.

Teddy is back on his feet in seconds. "We haven't even made it off the train and you're already in another fight, Teddy?" Jones unhelpfully adds from his position behind me.

Mark rises as Teddy springs on me. He waits for an opportunity to do so and then grabs Teddy lecturing, "Teddy, she didn't do anything, and it's not nice to hit a lady."

"Don't give me any of that sexist bullshit," I find myself replying, "I'll kick his bloody arse anyway." Teddy struggles against Mark's hold. He manages to break free, adrenaline overcoming Mark's superior strength, and charges me, pushing me into the compartment. I notice that Kathryn McNeil is also present. She hasn't seemed to look up from her book this whole time. She made Double Charms with the Ravenclaws even more frustrating. Of course, the Ravenclaws in turn had to endure Double Defense Against the Dark Arts with the Gryffindors. She is already in her robes for some reason.

"Ok," Jones announces, "enough!" He pulls his wand from the pocket of his jeans. "_Petrificus Totalus_," he calls. It isn't until after these words are uttered that I realize his wand is pointed at me. My body straightens and locks, against my control, and I fall to the floor. I cannot see much through my curls, which have fallen over my eyes. "_Petrificus Total…" _I hear before Jones's wand spirals across my vision. Like a flash, Teddy is on top of me, throwing sloppy punches I cannot deflect. The pain dulls after a while before a particularly sharp pain comes from my nose. I feel the blood begin to pool and run down my face, hear the meaningless voices, indiscernible over the pounding in my ears, but I am helpless to do anything. I slowly black out.

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I am incredibly lucky to come from a family with money. Even though it's been years, some people are still trying to regain funds lost to them in the war. My family lives in a large mansion that's been in my family for generations. I have brand new books and expensive robes. My family has a vacation home in the country side. A three person permanent staff lives in my family home. My father has the best magical medics working on him. It should be known, however, that the loss of a home is devastating even if you have plenty of money to replace it.

I was seven. Daddy, David, and I had gone to the vacation home for a week during the summer. David and Mom never really got along but this was before he stopped getting along with Dad. Daddy, always one to avoid conflict, thought that a vacation would be good for him, and David and I were separable only by school at this point. It was Wednesday, and we had spent the day on the lake, swimming.

My family has enemies. It's a consequence of money, I suppose. In the middle of the night, one of these enemies lit the house on fire. There are some things that magic cannot stop. A raging fire is one of them. By the time Dad smelled the smoke, it was already too late.

David rushed out quickly, climbing out his ground floor window. Dad was able to apparate out. I, however, didn't smell the smoke for a long time, and when I awoke, the fire had made it outside of my bedroom door. I don't remember much. A lot of smoke, having to crouch low to breathe, Dad's face and the squeezing sensation as he apparated us out of the house.

As we stood on the hill near our home watching as the flames overcame our possessions, I began to cry. Dad clutched me with one arm and had his other around David. I felt this sense of helplessness. I could do nothing. I was seven. It's occurred to me over the years that Daddy must have felt even more helpless.

He told me this summer when it seemed like the end that he felt like he'd failed me so many times. I told him to hush, that he had never failed me. I wondered later if the fire was one of those times. I hope he knows that he did anything but fail me. He had saved me. I could never have made it this far without him. I wonder if I'll be able to make it after he's gone. I want to help him. I want to fix it, but I can't. There are some things that magic can't stop. Fire is one. Death is another.

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"Are you Okay?" a voice asks. The voice is familiar, but I can't place it. "Linor! Are you awake?" My eyes flutter open. Above me is Molly Hall, Head Girl from Gryffindor. Further back stand a concerned Mark and a scowling Teddy.

"Yeah," I croak out, "What's going on?"

She helps me sit up as she begins to speak. "Well apparently you were in some variety of brawl with Teddy."

"These guys were part of it, too!" Teddy barks. Tattle tales annoy me.

"We were trying to stop you," Jones says in his usual condescending way, "Molly we had nothing to do with it."

"Except for body binding me so that Teddy can wail on me," I say frustrated, "you basically held me while he punched."

"Oh come on!" Jones retorts, "I would have bound him too if he hadn't knocked my wand out of my hands."

"Well either way," Molly calls, reaffirming her control of the situation, "you shouldn't have been doing magic in the first place, Jones. What about the rest of you?"

"Well Mark and Alex tried to get into it," Teddy announces.

"Bull!" Jones yells. He always had been confrontational. "Mark and Alex tried to stop you."

"I can speak for myself," Mark says joining the conversation, "but yeah what Jones said."

"What's the point of speaking for yourself if I've already said what you were going to say?" Jones could be insufferable. He had a tendency to assume things about others.

"Jones, we've discussed this," Mark says remaining cool, "just because you think you know…"

"There's no think…" Jones interrupts

"There's no stopping him, Mark," I say over Jones, "he's always been like this."

"Nobody asked you," he barks.

"Well nobody asked you about Mark and Alex."

"I believe Molly's question was addressed to the group."

"Bloody Hell! Can you all stop fighting for two minutes?" Molly yells. I had never seen her this angry. She was normally quite level. She takes several breaths. "What about Kathryn?" At this, Kathryn's head finally rose from her book.

"I didn't do anything," she says calmly.

"She read the whole time," Teddy says.

"She doesn't bother with petty squabbles,' Jones follows.

"Or maybe she just knows to stay out of other people's business," I say back. This actually helps. Good old banter, no matter how annoying, is always helpful in relieving stress.

Molly thinks for a moment and then sighs. "Well at least there's something you all can agree on. Look, I'm going to have to report this to your heads of house," she pauses for a moment, "meaning all of them. Linor, you seem fine for now, but Madame Pomfrey will have to take a look at you when you get to the castle." It was a great mystery to Hogwarts students why the old nurse hadn't retired, but no one minded. She was one of the best. "You all need to stay in this car, but I want you to divide into compartments in such a manner that you won't argue." With that she leaves. Without hesitating Teddy crosses the aisle into "his" compartment and slams it shut.

I start to stand up and Mark comes to help me, this time I let him. I don't have the energy to do it on my own.

"Look," Jones says reluctance evident in his voice, "I'm sorry for the body bind, I should have gone for him first."

"Oh, now you're sorry," I bark back, knowing he didn't deserve it, "now that my nose is broken and I'm covered in bruises. Well thanks Jones." As I grab my stuff that has fallen in the aisle, I chastise myself for my harshness. I was being more aggressive than necessary, I knew it. But to be honest, except for the injuries, it felt good. I had gotten my mind off Daddy for a little at least. I slide into the rear compartment and shut my eyes.

"What's her problem?" I heard Jones say from his compartment.

"Don't be so hard on her," Mark responds, "weren't you friends." God, that was forever ago.

"What does it matter? I go to apologize, and she yells. Typical Linor."

"Don't worry about it, Jones" Kathryn says, "some people just have no manners." Well bugger her. Her lack of talking, as though you weren't even worthy of her using the energy to speak to you was infuriating.

"Guys come on!" from Alex this time, "didn't you hear what happened to her Dad? We should be nice to her." Great, pity.

Unable to stand this anymore I reach up and slide the door shut. My mind is back on my father. What would he think? I think a thought I've thought many times before. He claims to have failed me, but he's wrong. I'm the one who's failed him. My Dad is going to die. I can't stop it. Once again, I've failed him. Exhausted and hurting, I drift to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2: Sorted

Chapter 2: Sorted

Jones

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Our mantle has a large picture of the whole carnival taken just before my parents met. On the far left is Henry Smithson, the manager, and his wife Laura. Bobby Jones, the strong man, is holding Mom, curled into a ball, above his head with one hand. In this particular snapshot, Dad is looking up at her amorously. My siblings love that picture. I hate it.

When my older sister was born, they thought they could stay with the caravan, but when I was born they knew they had to leave. They love to tell stories of their time on the road. Mom says it was some of the best times of her life. Twice a year, Dad meets some of his old buddies and they reminisce. He comes back crazy drunk, but smiling like a fool. I hate it.

Natalie and Danny came along five years after me, so they never knew the circus life. They aren't named after Madame Dolores or the strong man who delivered them both in the back of Dolores's trailer. And what so bad about _Bobby_ Wilson? I'm just saying. Mom says my name makes me special. I hate it.

I don't think that they realize the guilt they place on me. They were living their dream and prepared to spend the rest of their life happy as they could be, but I took it away from them. Pictures on the mantle, stories they tell, and even my name are constant reminders that I stole their dreams from them. Dolores dances, Natalie sings, and Danny is the most natural juggler I've ever seen. Mom and Dad teach Drama at the high school I'll never attend. My family is full of performers, except me. I'm a thinker. I'm not artistically talented, but I'm smarter than anyone in my family. That's not appreciated, though. It never will be.

The magic is. Dad used to think I was just really good at parlor tricks. He signed me up for classes, but I didn't excel in the ways he wanted me to. When I got into the classes, I attempted to actually learn the slight of hand and distraction methods. I was good, maybe the best in the class, but not the prodigy Dad wanted. Once again the dream was broken. I think they've always wished that if we all perfected our talents we could have a family act and they could travel again. I don't have that kind of talent. Another dream ruined.

There's a lot that my parents don't know. They don't know how to do their taxes. They don't know how to fly a broomstick. They don't know how to make pie. They don't know how to keep their voices down. They don't know me.

For the first eleven years of my life, I was the non-special one. I had no performance talent. I couldn't help them fulfill their dreams. But now, it's different. I'm still the other one, the black sheep in a way, but now I've brought magic to their lives.

When Professor Potter showed up to take me to Diagon Alley, they started believing in me. I was finally special. If only they realized that I've been special the whole time. In another family, being as smart as I am would be lauded. In my own, it was a disappointment. I don't think they realize yet that doing magic doesn't make me the artistic genius they want me to be. I'm just a regular genius. I'm still a scientist at heart.

Next to Dad on the mantle is Madame Dolores, the carnival's fortune teller. Dad always talks about how uncanny her intuition is. Every year, she joins us for Christmas. She always wears the kookiest hats. Last year, I discovered that she is a registered Seer. There's a lot that my parents don't know.

They don't know I feel like I don't fit in with my family. They don't know that magic doesn't make me a performer. They don't know I play a sport. They don't know that as much as they wish I was, I'm not like them. I'm not going to spoil it. Why ruin yet another dream?

Our mantle has a large picture of our family taken when I was ten. Mom and Dad are wearing smiles. Dolores is holding Natalie upside down. Danny is on Dad's back. I'm off to the side. My glasses are awkwardly hanging from my face. I'm not smiling, but looking at the camera inquisitively. My mom got this picture because everyone else looked so good. My siblings hate how I look in this picture. I love it.

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Hours pass. We get lunch from the cart. Mark attempts to be cuddly with Kathryn who reluctantly follows suit. Alex is saying something to me that I don't really hear. I am looking out the window, my mind wandering. It gets dark. We'll be at the school soon; I need to change.

"Jones?" the voice beside me says.

"What?"

"What classes are you taking? You didn't answer me," Alex says. At some point he changed himself.

"Ancient Runes, Care of Magical Creatures, and Arithmancy," I reply quickly, "I need to change." I rise and grab my bag and head for another compartment. I check to make sure no one can see me and see Linor asleep in her compartment. She looks so vulnerable when she doesn't know someone is looking. I dress in my robes and tie my blue and bronze tie around my neck without really thinking about it. Dad doesn't know how to tie a tie.

After I'm dressed, I return to the car. The others are laughing. I smile. These are my friends. Despite the crap that goes on, despite how I'm an outcast from everyone else at Hogwarts, despite the fact that I don't even fit in with my family, these people like me. It feels good to be liked.

Mark and I are in the same bedroom, so I've known him ever since I came to Hogwarts, but it wasn't until Quidditch try-outs last year that we really clicked. Kathryn and I became close about halfway through first year. I met Alex through Mark.

"I can't believe we are going to get detention at the beginning of the year! Those idiots," Kathryn, the only one of us with a perfect discipline record, had put her book down and was leaning into Mark.

"Come on, Kat," I say taking my seat, "think of it as a fun, new experience for you."

"Unfortunately," Mark adds, "the rest of us have had this experience before, so I lack a positive side to look on."

"Nonsense," I reply, "detention dates are fantastic, or so I hear." I don't date myself. What's the point?

"Ooh! You're right," Mark says nudging Kathryn playfully.

"Of course, I don't think a date with Linor and Teddy with be much fun at all," Kathryn declares.

"Well," Alex pops up, "maybe we won't have detention with them."

"Unlikely," I retort, "the professors seem to think that sharing detention will help students work through their issues and become the best of friends."

"Well then," Kat says, "even more to look forward to. I've always wanted friends that were unstable nitwits and psychotic bitches."

"Babe, don't be so mean." Marc scolds, "It frustrates me when you talk about people like that."

"Well they are!" Kathryn answers, "and it was them who got us into this in the first place." I have to agree with her. Teddy is known for causing trouble and Linor is a bitch. It feels a little wrong to say that about her, but it's true. It strikes me how far we've come since first year.

"We're here," I say looking out the window as the train begins to slow. We all stand prepared to walk off the train.

"Wait," Alex calls, "are we allowed to leave?" He has a point. What would be more suckish than having to stay on the train during the start of term feast?

As though she could read our minds, which may be a possibility, Molly chooses that moment to return to our car. "The heads of house have agreed to let you go to the feast, but you are to report to your respective heads immediately following it. Are we clear? Good." Immediately, she turns on her heel and leaves. She's a real conversationalist.

We leave the train and find ourselves on the familiar platform at Hogsmeade Station. "First Years! This way!" calls the familiar voice of Professor Potter. When Hagrid retired, he wanted this part of the position for some reason, some bullshit about wanting to welcome the first years like he had been welcomed. I almost laugh when I see Teddy try to avoid his look. I pity having a doting godparent with me at school. If I had to deal with a professor breathing down my neck the entire term, I would probably jump off the Astronomy Tower.

I turn back to the others and find they have moved down the platform without me. Being short, I find it difficult to see over the crowd and find them. Figuring I'll meet up with them at the castle, I follow the crowd and climb into a carriage. And then, just to make today more awful than it already was, Linor climbs in after me.

I fight with myself over the protocol for this situation. Do I say something? "How about that fight we had today" didn't seem like a good icebreaker. She is wearing her trademark scowl and avoiding eye contact. I knew that whatever I said she would just snap at me. So, like we have for the past year, we begin the ride to Hogwarts castle in silence pretending we don't have a history, pretending we have never been friends. She is a bitch. But then, I avoided her as much as she did me. My parents don't know that I'm an awful person. It's only a matter of time before Mark and Kathryn figure it out. Unfortunately for me, Linor already has.

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I shouldn't have done it. I know that. I could make excuses, but what's the point? Billy Brady is two years above us and during the last half of first year, Linor had fallen for him. I thought this was stupid. No one really falls for anyone when they're twelve. But I went with it. I listen as she talked for hours and hours about him. Do you think he likes me? Do I have a chance with him? Do you think I'm pretty? Like a good friend, I gave all the right answers, even when, especially when, it required lying.

At the end of first year, I felt relieved. We would go home for the summer, she wouldn't see him, and she would forget all about him. Unfortunately, things never turn out exactly how you want them to. If anything, it got worse. The worst part was that the summer between third and fourth year had been an awkward one for Billy. He came back strangely proportioned and his face wasn't at its finest. She was infatuated, though. It was pathetic.

So I took action. When I don't like a situation, I change it. I didn't like hearing about her endless obsession with the boy she barely knew. So I fixed it. She was talking to him in the Great hall in their usual awkward way and I couldn't take it. It wasn't the smartest thing to jump into their conversation. I feel bad about telling him about her liking them. I feel worse about the juvenile statements about shoe size, which the two of them didn't get. I don't think she understood that I knew I had done something wrong. It was punishment enough for me to look up and see her face, normally so strong, on the verge of tears.

After two days of silence, I found her in one of the courtyards after the last day of Quidditch tryouts. Despite how I did, I was feeling down. My best friend wasn't talking to me. Mark said to give it time, it would pass, but he's always been horribly optimistic as far as human nature.

"I'm sorry," I said walking up to her.

"You better be," was all she had to say back.

"It was stupid of me. Can we just put it past us?"

"Are you serious?" her hair whip around her head as she spun toward me. "You can't just wave your wand and make all your mistakes go away. No. We can't just put it past us." She began to walk back to the castle.

"I said I'm sorry," I said voice rising as I cut her off, "what more do you want from me?"

"Nothing. I want absolutely nothing from you ever again."

"Are you serious? He was just a boy. You barely knew him, and you probably won't ever see him again."

"God, Jones! You always think you know everything when you know nothing. I've known him since I was born. His family and mine go back years. He's been at every Christmas dinner I've had." A wrinkle, but it didn't change the fact that I was sorry.

"I'm sorry that I assumed based on your non-stop rambling on the topic that I knew all about him. Do you realize how ridiculous you've been?"

"Don't try to make this about me? It's about what you did." We had begun to gather a crowd.

"Well what else am I supposed to do?"

"Leave me alone. That's what you should do."

"So that's it. I make a mistake and you're done with me."

"The fact that you don't realize that this is about more than that one event, just proves my point." She walked away after that. Next time I saw her we were back to silence. I could have tried again. I could have made things better, but I didn't. I gave up on her just as much as she gave up on me.

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"Linor," I say for a reason that's a mystery even to myself.

Before I come up with what to say next she solves the dilemma for me. "Don't," she says, "whatever you're going to say next, don't." I spend the rest of the ride the same way I spent the first, in silence. When we reach the castle she is the first out of the carriage, and I don't see where she goes.

"There you are!" Kathryn calls from across the entrance hall, "Were you kidnapped by that awful…"

"She's not that bad," I was surprising myself with new found kindness for her. Wasn't it me who spent the last year mocking her, hating her, and ignoring her?

"Let's go into the feast," Mark announces, always the mediator. "I want to see my sister sorted." We walk into the feast and say goodbye to Alex as we take our seats at the Ravenclaw table.

"Hey guys! How was your summer?" calls a beautiful Indian girl from a little down the table.

"Just fine, Anjali. You?" Mark returns. We know her as the final Chaser on the Ravenclaw team. Sitting next to her is Ann Marie Davis, the Keeper. "Which one of you is captain?"

"Anjali has the official title, due to seniority," Ann Marie replies. "I'll have to wait until next year." As Mark, Anjali, and Ann Marie begin to discuss Quidditch plans, the usual this is our year pre-season euphoria, I look around the room. I have a good view of the Slytherin table and see Linor slide into the seat next to her brother, a Chaser as well. As she looks up, I turn my head before she sees I'm watching her. I'm now looking at the faculty table and, seeing the empty middle chair, I'm reminded of the big change at Hogwarts this year.

After years of steady devotion to Hogwarts as a teacher and Headmistress, Professor McGonagall had retired to spend the remainder of her life happy with her family. I had read in the _Prophet _that Deputy Headmistress Professor Mulligan had turned down the job to keep teaching. Instead, an Auror and talented witch named Amelia Bane is taking the job. The scandal caused by an outsider taking the job was only dwarfed by the controversy of the outsider herself. I was anxious to see how this woman would affect Hogwarts.

The seat on the Headmaster's right is empty too, as Professor Mulligan is waiting to greet the first years in preparation for the Sorting. I watch as Professor Potter walks in from the side door and goes up to his seat, whispering something to Transfiguration Professor, Eliza Percival, an older woman wearing an eye patch. I take pleasure in the annual guessing game to determine how it got there, but it's likely we'll never know. Potions Master and Slytherin Head, Professor O'Neely, whispers something to him as well before they all settle in their seats.

"Where is this infamous Professor Bane?" Kathryn says from across the table, "Maybe all the controversy got to her."

"Doubt it," I reply, "She's likely waiting to make a grand entrance."

"I can't believe that someone who spent several years in the mental ward of St. Mungo's is now headmistress of the greatest wizarding school in the world."

"The doctors say she fine now. Besides, I hear they have trouble getting people to just teach here, let alone be in charge. Half are afraid of another Dark Lord invading, despite that it's been over a decade, and the other half just don't want to be involved with the next generation."

Suddenly, I hear the boom of the door and turn to see Professor Mulligan, in a stylish set of blue robes, enter. She is a perfect example of big being beautiful. Despite her age and maybe because of her figure, she seems to attract quite a few crushes from the students. Behind her come the usual set of scared looking first years displaying looks varying from apprehension to terror. Motioning for them to stop, she continues to the front of the room giving a pointed look at Mark, Kathryn and I obviously having been informed of the train situation. When she reaches the front she stands before the podium and clears her throat, although she is fully aware everyone is already paying attention to her.

"Welcome, new students," she says in her sweet, yet authoritative, voice, "and to older students, welcome back. Before we begin the sorting, there are a few aspects of business to take care of. As you all know, two members of our faculty retired last year, and, in their place, we welcome two new Professors. Firstly, replacing Professor Sprout as Herbology Professor is Professor Longbottom." She gestures to a man, looking about as nervous as the first years with his hat crooked and dirt on his face, who rises and waves awkwardly as the Hall respectfully applauds. "The duties of Head of Hufflepuff House will be taken over by Professor Percival.

"Secondly, as you all know we have a new Headmistress at Hogwarts. I hope you all treat her with the respect and attentiveness that her position deserves, despite what you may have read in the _Daily Prophet_. Please join me in welcoming, Professor Bane."

Suddenly smoke begins to fill the hall as though this is a rock band entering and not the dignified Head of a school. Fake, or maybe magically created, lightening crashes from behind the table and the candles in the hall go out. In the flashes I can see a figure has taken position at the Head of the faculty table. Slowly the lights rise on the startling sight of Professor Bane. She is a tall woman with perfectly straight white hair falling to far beyond her waist. Her eyes are deep and colorless with a look that suggests she still has a little bit of crazy left in her, a trait that I think is important to the Hogwarts Head. She wears fancy robes that seem to be every color imaginable and a strange, tattered hat.

I join in as the hall breaks into awkward applause. "That was the most ridiculous thing I've ever seen," Kathryn says, not applauding.

"I thought it was kind of fascinating," I add, "and completely ridiculous."

"Guys," Mark scolds, "you need to show her more respect. But yeah, what was that?"

"On with the sorting," is all the new Headmistress has to say. I realize that the hat she is wearing is actually the Sorting Hat. It rises from her head and lands on the stool now beside Professor Mulligan. Her expression implies she agrees with us as she turns to the hat preparing for the song.

_From age to age and year to year_

_You will find me sitting here_

_Waiting patiently to help the school_

_For I'm a very special tool_

_Place me on you head a find_

_I will look inside your mind_

_And I will look all through that space_

_And put you in your perfect place_

_Perhaps to Gryffindor you'll go _

_If bravery is a trait you show_

_Or to Hufflepuff I shall send_

_Those loyal and great friends_

_For those who are think and seek and know_

_To Ravenclaw you shall go_

_And last "Slytherin!"I'll call_

_To those who seek greatness above all._

_For the founders of this castle asked_

_That I take this special task_

_And Sort you as I do_

_So that is what I'm going to do_

_So whether you find happiness here_

_Or tragedy or are faced with fear_

_Place me on your head and see_

_Where at Hogwarts you're meant to be._

Again the hall claps. "Not its best," Mark says, "but good." One by one, the first years, largely uninteresting to me are sorted. I cheer appropriately when a new student joins Ravenclaw. I slightly perk up when "Lawrence, Maria" is placed in "HUFFLEPUFF"

"Oh well," Mark says as his sister skips off to join their brothers at the Hufflepuff table, "Maybe Jessie will be like Elizabeth and I."

The sorting ends with "Yancy, James" joining "SLYTHERIN!" and after the hat is removed, Professor Bane stands. Without speaking, she waves her hands and the tables fill with food. I eat in relative silence listening to Anjali's plans for Quidditch tryouts, Mark and Kathryn's flirting, and Kathryn's excitement for classes. I can't help but look up at Linor repeatedly. I wonder why she happened into my life again today. I feel like my mother as I wonder if it's fate. My mother always talks about the spirits of the earth moving us to our proper path on the way to self-fulfillment and accomplishment of the purpose that the Gods have set out for us. My mother doesn't know that I don't buy in to her crazy religion. I can't imagine that the rest of the family does either, but we all pretend. It's better that way.

I realize that I pretend a lot of things. I pretend that I'm okay, perfectly happy even, but I'm not. I pretend that, despite the times I find her crying in the common room, Kathryn's fine, but she's not. And I pretend that I'm over what happened with Linor, but I know I'm not. I can't just leave that hanging. I'm going to fix it. I owe it to her.

Before I know it, the feast is over, and Professor Bane has stood again. "I trust that I only have to say this for the first years, as all of the rest of you know, but the forest surrounding the castle is off-limits. Also, I need to speak to all of the Quidditch captains as soon as I'm finished here. I could stand up here and tell you all how I will succeed at Hogwarts, but I shall let my actions speak for themselves. Captains, this way please." Without waiting for response, she stands and walks off to a side room. I watch as a puzzled Anjali follows her, along with James Grayson and the other two captains.

"Well then," Professor Mulligan says, "I suggest you all return to your dormitories and get a good night's sleep. Classes begin tomorrow." As I stand to join my classmates in leaving the hall, I feel an immense respect for Professor Bane. Most people would have talked on end about themselves, but she's different. I like different. Of course, her entrance was not as likable. I am unsure what to think of this ne Headmistress.

"Well, time to get yelled at," Kathryn says grabbing Mark's outstretched arm (I pretend I don't see the reluctance) and splitting from the other Ravenclaws to walk to Professor Mulligan's office. I follow behind passing the Slytherins. I see Linor splitting off as well. She looks at me, and I don't enjoy her gaze. Everyone loves my parents. They don't know what it's like to get a look of intense hatred. They don't know how much it hurts to see the pain hidden in that look and know you caused it. Unfortunately, I do.


	3. Chapter 3: Trouble

A/N: This may seem a little short, but it's simply based on how long I need to be in this perspective. The next chapter will be a more average length.

Chapter 3: Trouble

Teddy

----------------

I guess I'm really lucky. I have a lot of people looking out for me. The amount of parent figures in my life is staggering. It's hard to feel lucky, however, when none of those figures are your actual parents.

"Teddy," Harry says quite warmly considering the situation, "sit." I take my usual seat in front of my godfather's desk. "Okay, what happened?" He hasn't changed much from the pictures I've seen of him when he was young.

"I got in a fight," I reply nonchalantly. I know how difficult I am. I don't care. It's not my job to make other people's lives easy.

"Teddy, let's not go through this again. You know what I mean."

"She pushed me. I pushed back."

"I see." He lets out a sigh before removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes. "We've discussed this before. Just because someone "pushes" you doesn't mean you should push back."

"We've also discussed how I should stand up for myself."

"I don't Miss Grayson was insulting you. Besides, it got much worse than simple pushing. You broke her nose! Teddy this is simply unacceptable. I don't get it. You're a smart kid and a good wizard but if you keep getting in these fights, you may have to leave the school."

"Maybe I want to leave." A lie.

"You and I both know that's not true." He knows me too well. "You can't go around punching _girls_"

"Linor would say that's sexist bullshit." He glares at me, disapproving of my language. "Direct quote."

"Well how did the other four get involved?"

"They shouldn't get in trouble. They were trying to stop us."

"Oh, were they. Well let me ask you this, you're aware that Miss McNeil is at the top of the third years, right?"

"Yes." Here we go, either this will lead to how I could be the top of my year (a personal favorite of Harry's) or yet another teacher discussing how smart she is. Either way, I don't want to hear it.

"Well then perhaps, you should have listened to her advice and stopped fighting."

"Oh, she didn't try to stop us, she just read her book."

"Teddy, that's not the point!" he says voice rising, "you know full well that you shouldn't have fought on the train! This is a new record for you, fighting before classes even start. Why, Teddy? Why can't you just get yourself together and stop this." Good question.

"Look, Harry…"

"Professor, when I'm yelling at you."

"Ok, Professor, can you just give me detention and be done with this."

"No, I can't. You don't get it do you? Professor Bane will not be as forgiving as Professor McGonagall was. If you keep this up, you'll be expelled. Do you think that's what your parents would want from you?" And of course my parents come up. Always my parents. I don't give a damn about my parents. All they ever did for me was die. "Obviously talking and detention isn't going to get you to listen, so I'm going to take another approach. If you get in another fight, even a disruptive verbal disagreement, you will be off the Quidditch team."

"What!?!" Fantastic. The one good thing about this school of idiots taken away.

"I figured that would get your attention. You will serve detention this Friday night with me and the rest of your classmates on the Quidditch pitch. Teddy, I'm only doing this for your own good."

"Did it ever occur to you that I don't want you looking out for my own good? And it's Mr. Tonks when you're yelling at me." I yell. Tonks, not Lupin.

"You don't mean that."

"Yes, I do. I'm so sick of being everyone's pity case. I can handle myself."

"Obviously not, Teddy. Handling yourself is about to get you expelled. Please, just try to go this year without another fight. Please."

"Whatever. Are we done?"

"Are you? Is there anything else you need to talk to me about? I'm not only willing…"

"But wanting to hear blah blah awesome godfather BS. Yes, I'm done. See you in class." I turn and leave the room before stopping. "What's the password?"

"Beta fish" he says. A look of hurt is on his face. I shouldn't have insulted the fact that he cares.

"Thanks." I set off toward the Fat Lady loosening my tie. I feel bad about how I treat him, but I don't need him. He thinks I fight as a cry for attention, but he's wrong. I have plenty of attention. I fight because I hate people walking all over me.

I reach the staircase and begin to climb when suddenly it changes. "DAMMIT!" I yell hearing the echo off the tall walls. With any luck, I've woken someone up. Now I'll have to take the long way back. I enter the hallway and turn right, and find myself face to face with Mark Lawrence.

"Whoa," he says halting to avoid hitting me. It occurs to me that he is surprisingly alone.

"Where's your loyal posse?"

"Jones and Kat?" he asks. I nod in a way that suggests this was obvious. "We're not attached at the hip. We're capable of being apart."

"Had me fooled." Instead of looking upset at my insult, he smiles.

"I can understand. We do spend a lot of time together." It occurs to me how nice he is. It isn't often you find someone who is this genuinely nice. "Professor Mulligan is yelling at us one at a time. I'm just wandering waiting for Kathryn. Jones went back without us."

"Sorry about this, by the way." I am. I didn't mean to involve them.

"Good," he replies, "an easy way to avoid this scenario is to not fight."

"That's what they tell me. Now Harry's threatening to take away Quidditch."

"That sucks, man." Hmm. Not a "you deserve it" or "serves you right." Is it possible that I've found someone who is genuinely nice? "Do you have to help clean the pitch?"

"Is that what he's having us do? Fun."

"It'll take a while, but at least we'll be outside and on brooms. It's better than having to polish trophies."

"True." What is this? Am I actually having a civil conversation with someone? Finally, someone who isn't treating me like a poor, hurting orphan nor rolling over and letting me get my way. I like it.

"Well, I have to get back. Nice talking to you." As he turns to leave, I stop him.

"Do you mean that?"

"What?"

"Did you honestly enjoy talking to me?"

"Yeah. You apologized, and I respect that."

"It was nice to be talked to like a person and not a pity case. Thanks."

"You're welcome Teddy. Good Night."

I feel so strange. This is the first time I've felt like I'm a person not a story. This is the first time I'm more that where I come from. As I walk back to Gryffindor tower, I consider that I may have found an actual friend. It's odd, but I finally feel lucky.


	4. Chapter 4: Class

Chapter 4: Class

Kathryn

-------------------

I've barely slept. It may be completely lame, but I cannot wait for classes. Call me a nerd, people have. Ostracize me, people have. But no matter what you or anyone else has to say, I love learning. The first day of a new term is a day of excitement and anticipation. Today is especially exciting because of new classes. I dress and make my way to the common room to find Mark, looking as good as ever, waiting for me.

"Good morning," he says as we walk from the common room and head toward the great hall, "Jones went on without us. How are you?"

"First day of class," I say smiling, "it's like Christmas."

"Oh you're a strange one, Kathryn McNeil." From him the words are pleasant, spoken with kindness. Most of the time, they are filled with spite.

We enter the Great Hall and find a seat next to Jones, who looks like he would have given anything to be back in bed. He's not much of a morning person. He's reading over his copy of _Standard Book of Spells, Grade 3_ although I suspect he's both read it, and figured out how to perform the spells that interest him.

"Hey," I say sitting across from him.

He looks up at me registering my presence. "Schedules haven't come yet," he says wearily before returning to his book. I sit and begin eating my breakfast.

"Anjali is trying to get the earliest possible slot for tryouts, so that we can train longest with our new teammates," Mark says excited. Quidditch talk again. I put up with it. It makes them happy.

"Good. I hope we can get a good Seeker. All our work is useless without catching the snitch. I wish we played by NQL rules." That summer, the debates over how many points the snitch is worth had finally led to a split and the formation of the New Quidditch League.

"I don't know. Making the snitch worth too little is just as bad as too many, and 50 points…" Mark replies.

"Is too few," Jones interrupts, "I know. We've had this conversation like fifty times this summer. Schedules." Professor Mulligan is coming up the table handing out schedules. The excitement builds within me.

"Wilson," she says reaching him and handing him a piece of parchment. "Lawrence, and McNeil." I unfold the sheet of parchment and look at today's classes.

"We're outside," Jones says, "All morning. With the Gryffindors." He doesn't sound too excited.

"I'm not," I respond, "I have Muggle Studies with Slytherin."

"Ah, the class of uselessness which you're taking why exactly?"

"Jones," Mark says, "be nice."

"Because," I reply, "it's interesting to hear how other people live. Just because you've experienced Muggle life firsthand, doesn't mean the rest of us haven't."

"Well, spoiler alert," Jones says, "it's boring as hell." He's wrong. Any speck of information I can get my hands on is interesting.

"Well, maybe Kathryn will think it's interesting," Mark adds, "you need to realize that not everyone shares your opinion." Some girls would hate it if their boyfriend was always defending them, but not me. I love it that he sticks up for me.

"Whatever. When I'm right, you let me know." Soon, although not soon enough for me, it's time for class. The three of us make our way to the Greenhouses.

"Did you talk to Anjali?" Mark asks.

"No," Jones replies, "she was asleep already. I'll have to ask her today." I am curious what Professor Bane had said to them, but more anxious to see how this Professor Longbottom would do. I really liked Professor Sprout.

"Come on up," Professor Longbottom says as we approach, "I have a great lesson planned for you." After the Gryffindors show up, he leads us into Greenhouse 2. We all take places beside a number of empty pots. At the front, a collection of plants are displayed.

"One of the main benefits of Herbology is learning how plants can be used in potion making." Professor Longbottom seems very pleased with himself after completing that sentence. "So this year, in addition to our other plants, we will be growing common plant potion ingredients that you will be able to use. Now who can tell me what some of these are?"

I don't raise my hand, although I know the answers, neither does Jones. Mark, however, slowly raises his hand.

"Mr. Lawrence, right?"

"Yessir," he says, "The one on my left is a Thorn Shrub."

"Correct. Five points to Ravenclaw. Do you know any of it's uses?"

"Yeah. The shavings of the thorns are used in mental related potions."

"Great! Five more points. Anyone else?"

A Gryffindor raises her hand. "Yes, Ms. Merrywhether?"

"I think the one in the middle is an Autumn Lily, we have them at home."

"Ah yes. Five points for you, too. Many households began growing them when it was discovered that they are very effective in medicinal potions. We, of course, won't get blooms until next year, but…"

"That's not true," I call out of turn, "In the newest edition of _Magical Herbs and Fungi_, it says that that was a hoax."

"Kathryn, that's wrong, you just have to steam them," Jones whispers beside them.

"Actually that's a misconception," the professor says, "the editors of that book have received my letter that you simply have to steam them to get the proper effect. I won't take away points for the misconception, but, hopefully, five points from Ravenclaw will remind you to not interrupt." He looks at me as though he is really sorry for this, but I don't care about the points. I can't believe I was wrong about that. The book said.

I have a tendency to correct teachers. Some people say I shouldn't, but if they're wrong, they deserve to be corrected. No need to let them instill the wrong knowledge in the impressionable minds of my peers. But normally I'm right. No, actually, I'm always right. Now I look like an idiot. I'm a lot of things, but I'm not an idiot.

I kind of miss the rest of class. I'm mortified. Not only are all my classmates going to get a laugh, Professor Longbottom must think I'm an idiot. To make things worse, I feel like I'm going to cry. Fantastic, my life can get worse. When class is over, I quickly gather my things, but am stopped. "Ms. McNeil, can I talk to you for a moment." Great. Now a lecture from yet another professor about correcting people. I reluctantly walk to the front of the greenhouse.

"Are you okay?" he asks and I'm surprised. "I know how it feels to be called out and it sucks. Are you okay?" Wow. Most teachers aren't this open with you.

"Yeah," I choke out, still not wanting to talk to him, "I'll be fine."

"Are you sure? You can talk to me."

"Yes, I'm fine. Goodbye, Professor." I leave the greenhouse to avoid any further conversation. This completely sucks. I nearly run into Mark.

"Are you OK, baby?" he asks.

"I'm fine, just leave me alone." I storm off toward the castle. I feel bad after I say it, but I'm too upset to really care. As I make my way to the Muggle Studies room, I try to calm down. If I can make it through one more class, I'll be fine. This time I'll just shut up and make it through.

I enter the room and take the only available seat which, just my luck, is next to Ellinor Grayson. Not surprisingly, she is one of only three Slytherin's in this room. Luckily, she doesn't talk to me. The woman I recognize from the faculty table, who must be Professor McCalister, enters the room and walks up to the front.

"Welcome to you all. I'm thrilled that you all decided to broaden your cultural knowledge by experiencing how others live." As rehearsed as it sounds, the message is sincere. "Many students say this class is pointless and boring, but I hope you all will look past their critique and attempt to find the interesting aspects of Muggle society. Now if you'll open your books…"

The rest of the lesson was surprisingly relaxing. My favorite blend of new information and quietly knowing the answers made this class look like a good choice. Take that, Jones. He had been right today and now I am. After the class, I make my way to the Great Hall feeling refreshed and back on my game.

I meet Jones and Mark as I enter the room. Jones is sporting a burn on his hand, and Mark looks a little disheveled, which is kind of sexy.

"It was interesting," Mark says when I ask about his class. "Professor Compton has very interesting stories."

"And an unfortunate tendency to leave out important safety information," Jones adds. "How was learning about the boring world?"

"Fascinating," I embellish slightly. We sit and begin to eat. For the rest of the day I'm fine. Transfiguration is pretty great, and History of Magic is comfortably mediocre. I actually start to believe that I'm over the events of earlier that day. The week comfortably continues on. Tuesday is fine and I'm delighted to have my first Ancient Runes lesson. On Wednesday, I make it to after classes.

I'm walking back to the dormitory and I see a group of Ravenclaws in my year, most of whom are girls in my room. They are talking about me.

"It was great," one says, "she was finally shut down."

"She thinks she knows everything, but she doesn't."

"I don't even think she knows our names and we sleep in the same room." She's right.

"She's such a total jerk about it, too. She misses one question and she cries over it."

"It's only a matter of time before she gets dumped."

I can't take it. I turn around and walk away from the common room. Following the path I know by heart, I make my way to an abandoned classroom and walk inside. Within moments, I'm bawling. I collapse into a chair and let the tears come.

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I'm fragile. I know it. I always have been. I'm not good at letting people in because I'm afraid of getting hurt. I'm afraid of leaning on people because I know that inevitably they let you fall. I hate it, but I don't know how to fix it. I'm easily broken, it's a manufacturing error, but I can't change it.

I'm just waiting for Jones and Mark to let me down. I know that at some point one of them, probably both of them will. It was so hard to open up to them, but I did. I finally did, but I'm just waiting for them to make me realize I shouldn't of.

I've been hurt before. I've been abandoned, discarded, and ignored. It's so hard to trust people when your own father has let you down.

Jones is as smart as me, which is something I don't experience often. Our variety of smart is completely different, but it doesn't change the fact that he operates on the level I do. That's so refreshing. They say the smarter you are, the more cynical you are. It almost makes you wonder if people really are as bad as I think they are. Jones has managed something I can't, however. He manages to remain optimistic about life and people. He manages to try to find the best in people and situations. I can't. I look for the best put can't get past the worst they throw in my face. Eventually, the clash between his optimism and my pessimism will become to much and he'll turn on me. I know it.

I think it's good that I can acknowledge my shortcomings, but it doesn't help me change them. I'm still a pessimist. I'm still a cynic. I'm still closed off.

I don't know what Mark sees in me. I can't believe that I'm lucky enough to have someone like him. He's brilliant, but not arrogant about it. He's gorgeous, but doesn't think so. He's such a good friend. He's nice to everyone, even if they've screwed him over. I'm not like that. I'm the antithesis of "that." He's an amazing boyfriend. I don't know what I'd do without him, but I suck at expressing that. Eventually he'll get sick of that and turn on me. I know it.

When one of them finally turns on me, it'll be too much. I'm fragile. I'll break. And that time, it'll be into too many pieces. I won't recover. I'm so scared of when that happens because it will. I know it.

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"Are you okay?" Jones asks from the doorway.

"I'm fine."

"I just found you crying in an empty classroom. Don't try and sell me that bull. I'm not buying."

I love that he has the strength to not except that answer.

"Why are they mean?"

"Because they're jealous."

"You're just saying that."

"No, I'm not. You are so much smarter and well read then they are that it's unfathomable to them. So to compensate, they mock you."

"Do you think so?"

"I know so. Now if you're going to let those bitches walk all over you, I can't sit here and comfort you." He walks over and sits in the desk next to me.

"I wish I wouldn't, but they get to me. I wish they wouldn't but they do."

"That just means you have remarkably managed to stay soft in a world where everyone makes you hard." A look of realization flashes across his face. "That was not how I should have phrased that." He chuckles, and I laugh. It feels good.

"I know what you mean. I suppose I'll take that as a compliment."

"Take as both. If you're too soft you won't survive."

"I suppose you'll just have to help me get harder."

"I'll leave that to Mark." We share another laugh. It feels nice that someone cares.

"I can't believe I made a fool of myself."

"Everyone screws up sometimes. Except for Mark, I'm pretty sure you've found the perfect man."

"Lucky me. The perfect man and the girl who is the opposite of perfect."

"You're closer than you think."

"Thanks for lying."

"I'm not."

I wipe my face and stand up. Jones stands too. For a moment, I just stand there. This is what it's like to have a best friend. I like it. Despite this, it won't last. Eventually, we'll break. I know it. But for now, it's worth it.

.


	5. Chapter 5: Detention

Chapter 5: Detention

Mark

----------------

I'm not perfect. I look at myself and my actions and see errors, as I should. The trick is that I try to be the best person I can be. I devote as much time as necessary into my studies and Quidditch. I try to be nice to everyone because I want them to be nice to me. I still screw up. I still have problems, problems that I can't seem to fix. I want to be happy with myself, but it's hard. I can't look past my shortcomings. I'm trying though, and that's the best I can do.

On Thursday, Kathryn seems happier. Whatever Jones said worked. That's an issue. I'm good at talking to people in normal circumstances, but I can't cheer people up. When people are upset, I'm useless. The three of us have our first Arithmancy lesson today, and probably our first bit of homework. Ann Marie comes up to me as I'm eating toast.

"I hate to take your Saturday," she says sliding into the seat next to Jones, "but we're having Quidditch tryouts then." Good. I'm extremely excited to get back on the field. "Anjali wants us there at 1 so we can warm up before tryouts at 2."

"Ok," I reply, "we'll be there."

"As an added bonus," Jones remarks sarcasm in his voice, "the Quidditch pitch will be shiny and clean." I hate how snarky he can be sometimes. He's my best friend, but we have our major differences. At the same time, we help fix the faults in each other. I help him open up; he helps me calm down. I wouldn't trade our friendship for anything.

We finish our breakfast and make our way to the Charms classroom. Kathryn, who is holding my hand when we leave the Great Hall, releases it to hand Jones something from her bag. She doesn't grab it again. I try not to let it bother me. It's happened so many times before. I like her a lot, more than I've liked anyone, but I don't think she likes me as much. I don't think it is relationship ruining, but it can be upsetting. Maybe I'm just too clingy. Another fault.

We enter the classroom and Jones respectfully goes and shares a table with Alex, so Kathryn and I can sit together. He's surprisingly good about Kathryn and me dating. At first I thought it would make things incredibly awkward, but he rolls with it. He's adaptable. I'm static.

Professor Mulligan enters the classroom five minutes late, which is incredibly out of character for her, with a look of annoyance on her face. She takes a deep breath and turns to the class. "Today we'll be moving on to practicing the Adhesive Charm on the pieces of parchment in front of, yes Mr. Krumpet." Todd Krumpet, whom I recognize from my room, has raised his hand.

"Are you okay, Professor?" he says.

"Yes, Krumpet. Thank you for your concern. Now…"

"It's just that you're never late," he replies.

"I'm well aware of my tendency to be punctual, but I don't see how it's relevant at this moment. If you must know, I was in a meeting with the Headmistress about new discipline policies, despite the fact that the old ones are perfectly reasonable and acceptable. Please work with your partner on the Charm. The first person to correctly perform the charm will gain five points for their house, and everyone else who can successfully perform it will gain a point. Begin."

Within moments, Jones has performed the charm, one he mastered this summer, and is helping Alex. I turn to Kathryn to begin, but she seems to be focused on the books explanation. After a while, she looks up and performs the spell. I suppose it's no big deal. Spell casting isn't exactly a team activity.

After class, we head outside while Kathryn heads for Muggle Studies. "Are you okay?" Jones asks suddenly as we make our way across the grounds.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I respond shocked at the question. "Why do you ask?"

"I notice you know," is all he says in response.

"Notice what?"

"How you look when she lets go of your hand or doesn't talk to you for a while. I just want you to know she does like you." Good old Jones, always addressing the issue head on.

"I know, and it's fine. We're just different in some ways. Thanks for the concern."

"No problem." After a slightly less painful Care of Magical Creatures lesson, we head to lunch and then to the dungeons. Jones gives Linor a look that says a lot as we enter the classroom. I may not talk about it, but I notice, too. I'm not good at approaching conversations about issues. If he brings it up, however, I'll be able to help. After Potions, I have a period off while Linor and Jones head for Ancient Runes. I wander toward the Common Room until I run into Professor Potter in the hall.

"Ah, Mr. Lawrence," he says, "just who I wanted to see. I expect you, Mr. Wilson, and Ms. McNeil on the pitch at 5 tomorrow, so you'll need to eat an early dinner. Please bring your brooms. Master Langely will have most of the school's brooms with him for inspecting."

"Ok, I'll let Jones and Kathryn know." Fantastic! Even if it's at detention, I'll be back on the pitch a day early. I continue toward the common room when I see a figure at the top of the stairs.

"Teddy?" I say although his odd pitch black hair is unmistakable.

"Oh!" he calls turning around, "hey Mark. No class this period."

"Nope, I only added two classes."

"Oh me too." He pauses for a moment and I catch up with him. "Did you hear what they're doing with Quidditch?" I knew he was referring to Professor Bane's conversation with the Quidditch captains.

"Yeah, Anjali told me. I guess compromise is the way to go."

"True. It's great that our work on the field will be worth more than just league points." I had forgotten that Teddy was the Gryffindor Keeper.

"It's still a hundred points for the Snitch," I reply, "not too much of a difference really." We continue on our way and I find that I'm enjoying talking to him. As much of a bad rap Teddy gets, he's really not that bad when you get to know him. People tend to be like that, different on the inside. God knows I am. We chat about Quidditch tryouts; his house is getting two new chasers while we're getting a beater and a keeper. We talk about our summer, mine with my family and Jones at the house and his with his grandma.

Just when we're about to breach a serious discussion zone into his parents, a bell rings. I realize we've been standing at a fork in the hallway for a while. Remembering that I was going to meet Jones and Kathryn after class for dinner, I begin to turn around. "Hey, I'm supposed to meet people for dinner tonight. Why don't you come eat with us?"

"At your house table? I'm not in Ravenclaw."

"So?" House politics, again. "It's just a table. My brother spends most of his meals at the Slytherin table with his girlfriend."

"Um…that's okay." Oh well, I tried. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah I'm looking forward to it."

"You're looking forward to detention?"

"I'm looking forward to flying and spending my Friday with some cool people."

"That's a good way to look at it. Well, see you then."

I walk back down to the Great Hall and see Jones eating with Alex. Kathryn is nowhere to be found. I sigh and take my usual seat.

"She went to get started on homework, because of detention tomorrow. Sorry." Jones speaks without prompt. Jones is so good at that. I suck at it. I'm not perfect, and I'm glad I'm not. Sometimes, however, I just wish I was useful in a crisis.

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During the summer, Jones came and stayed with my family. We live in a large, old farmhouse in the country with lots of land surrounding it. Often, Jones and I would spend the days flying around the farm and playing Quidditch with my siblings. I wondered why he didn't seem to want to see his family, but I didn't ask. It was nice to have a friend around.

Several times throughout the summer, Kathryn came to visit. It was around this time that I realized I fancied her, but I knew I couldn't act on it. We were friends and it would be too awkward if we started dating.

Jones knew. He always knows. He could see how much it was upsetting me, liking her and not being able to be with her. Plus, I had no idea if she liked me, but Jones knew. He always knows.

One day, a day after she had visited, we were flying around chatting. A lull in the conversation had come about, but it wasn't awkward. You know someone is your friend when you can be with them while silent and feel fine. It was Jones who broke the silence. "She likes you, you know," he said as though he was commenting on the weather.

"What?" I replied knowing full well whom he was talking about.

"Kathryn, she likes you, and you like her. Go for it."

"What? No. We're just friends."

"Bullshit. Don't lie to me."

"Well don't lie to me. I know you're just telling me she likes me to make me feel better."

"A. Why would I lie to you and ask you to put yourself in a disastrous situation? B. I'm not lying, and you know it."

"Why in the world would someone like Kathryn like someone like me?"

"Are you high? You're smart, good-looking, and one of the nicest people I know."

"You're way smarter than I am."

"No I'm not. I'm a different smart than you are. Plus, she doesn't like me. She likes you."

"You think?"

"Yes! What is your problem? Why can't you realize how much of a good person you are? You are one of the best people I know, but you don't see it! It's bloody annoying."

"I'm not perfect."

"No one is. And look. If you're worried about ruining the friendship, trust me. You like each other in a way that will ruin the friendship regardless of what happens. So stop wallowing, get off your arse, and do something about it."

"What if she says no?"

"She won't."

"Okay. Fine. I'll ask her next time I see her."

"Good. I told her to come over tonight."

"What?" Jones doesn't know how to let a situation be, but it's one of the things I admire about him.

"Don't screw it up." He proceeded to fly off and leave me in the field. It was one of the nicest things Jones has ever done for me. He won't let me hold myself back, and what more is a friend supposed to do.

The problem is I regret it. I still like Kathryn, but I'm not good at being in a relationship. I think I cling too hard to her. I'm going to make her run away. It's hard to be in a relationship when you're just waiting for the end. But I'm going to try. All I can do is try.

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Friday classes pass without incident. Luckily, I don't get any huge assignments, which is a plus considering detention and tryouts. I'm surprised to find myself excited for detention. I'll be spending my Friday with friends and on the pitch, so what's not to like?

After dinner, Jones and I grab our brooms and we head for the pitch. Teddy meets us in the entrance hall. As we make our way to the pitch, Jones and Kathryn seem to drift behind Teddy and me. Unfortunately, Teddy notices.

"They don't like me much, do they?" he asks, hurt evident in his voice.

"No," I lie, "They just don't really know you. Neither of them is particularly good at meeting new people." At least the second part's true. He seems happier than the last time I saw him. His hair is lighter, now a dark brown, and his eyes seem happier. That's really how you tell.

Professor Potter and Alex are already at the Pitch when we get there, and I notice that Linor was just a little bit back from us.

"Okay, so here's what's going on," Professor Potter says cheerfully as though this is a game and not detention, "our job today is to polish the hoops. You, of course, won't be using magic except for flying. Linor and Teddy, you'll take the tallest hoops and the rest of you can figure it out amongst yourself. After you finish your hoop, you are free to go. Any questions?" Who asks questions at detention? "Good. The brooms for those of you who need them are inside. Let's get started."

We make our way into the pitch and mount our brooms after grabbing our supplies. I head for the second tallest hoop on Teddy's side expecting Kathryn to follow me. I am slightly upset when she followed Jones toward Linor, but decide to not let it bother me.

It's actually kind of fun. I talk to Alex and Teddy classes and Quidditch. I'm surprised to find that Teddy and Jones have remarkably similar senses of humor, both relying heavily on sarcasm. When I finish my hoop I looked up to find that Professor Potter has left the pitch.

"Where'd he go?" I ask to no one in particular.

"He told us we were doing fine and that he needed to get some stuff done at the castle." I'm startled that Kathryn answers me. I turn and see that she and Jones have flown to this end of the pitch. Jones looks upset, but, as usual, I don't ask. "We're done, so we were just going to head back to the common room."

"Speak for yourself." Jones says, "We have the pitch to ourselves, so let's make the best of it. Who's up for some three on three?"

"I don't think that's such a good idea," Alex calls flying up to join us, "Professor Potter may come back at any moment."

"Oh live a little," Jones replies. "It'll be fine."

"We don't have balls," Kathryn adds.

"We'll use one of these," he says throwing up and catching the poufs we've been using to polish the hoops.

"I don't know," I say, "It's asking for trouble."

"I'm game," Teddy says abandoning his task and joining us.

"Thanks Teddy. You can keep for our side and I guess Linor will be with us to."

"Jones, no," I plead, "let's just…" My last words, however, are silenced by a pouf hitting my face.

"My bad," Jones calls zooming away to the other side of the field with Teddy right behind him. As much as I acknowledge this is a bad idea, I find myself motivated by the pouf in my face.

"Come on, Mark," Kathryn says, "if you ignore him, he'll give up."

"Screw that," I say determined to cream him, "it's on." I try to do the right thing, and follow the rules, but sometimes I falter. What can I say? I'm not perfect.


	6. Chapter 6: Pitch

A/N: Firstly, sorry for the delay. Secondly, I made an error in the previous chapter. Mark told Teddy they needed a keeper when actually Ann Marie is keeper, as stated in chapter 2. The open position is for a seeker. Finally, and you may want to read this sentence after the chapter, this chapter begins a plot point that leads to slash which will continue throughout the series.

Chapter 6: Pitch

Jones

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When Madame Dolores came for Christmas last year, I knew her secret. I was puzzled why she hadn't told my parents the truth after they found out I was a wizard, but it wasn't my secret to tell. As much as possible, I avoid returning to my family during the holidays, but this year, I had no excuse. So, like the good son I'm not, I sat there at Christmas dinner in between Natalie and Madame Dolores and acted like I belonged.

The food was great, as always, but the conversation was dreadful. Dolores, the younger, recounted her dance competition in excruciating detail and I pretended to care. I lasted through the meal, which is an accomplishment, but I just couldn't make it past dessert. As Mom passed me a plate of Yorkshire pudding, she asked in her sweet voice, "so, how's school."

"Do you actually care?" I said before thinking.

"Of course, I care. You're my son."

"Ok, so you want me to recount my exploits studying for class and pursuing academic excellence? Warning, the following story does not contain awards, trophies, or artistic expression."

"Jones, watch it. This is your mother you're speaking to." Thank you, Dad for the obvious and non-specific critique.

"What did I do? I was merely reminding her that, unlike my siblings, I don't seek glory and recognition in everything I do."

"Jones, please don't start this with Mom," Dolores said reflecting on the argument we'd gotten in last night.

"Fine," I replied, "I'll just go back to sitting here silently and not making waves." I stuck to my word and ate my dessert without speaking. I had half expected Mom to pursue the discussion further, but she just started talking about her students and the upcoming musical auditions.

After dinner, I went into the kitchen to help with dishes, but Mom shooed me away saying she could handle it, but meaning she didn't want me in there. I sat on the sofa in the living room and stared out the window wondering what Christmas was like at the Lawrence house.

I felt someone sit down next to me, and looked up to find Madame Dolores.

"That was tasty," she said opening the lines of discussion.

"And brutal." I replied. "How do you take it? Living in the mundane Muggle world."

"Ah," she said in her all-knowing way. It always struck me how you could hear the wisdom behind her words. "I see you've been doing some reading."

"I was reading about Divination while thinking about what classes to take and your name came up. How do you do it?"

"Well, Jones, the first thing you have to realize is that just as no two Muggles are the same, neither are witches and wizards. You have a disdain for Muggle society; I happen to love living among them. It doesn't frustrate me the same way it does you."

"True.' I responded when she stopped talking.

"The other thing is that these people are your family. They share your blood, and that means more than you think it does. No matter how different you may seem from these people, you are part of them. You can't pick your family, even an idiot knows that, but it takes a truly wise person to realize that even if you could, you wouldn't pick anyone else."

I thought about these words for a long time. These people are related to me, and I couldn't change that. Did I want to, though? Hell yes. Eventually, I decided that despite what she says, I don't belong with these people. Yeah, so maybe she was a Seer, so what. Her claim to fame had nothing to do with anything she did. Besides, she decided to spend her life with the circus. What does she know?

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Linor looks at me as though I'm on something. "Quidditch, now?"

"Yeah," I reply, "And you should decide quickly because Mark's coming this way now." He is flying toward us, not bothering with any variety of curved path. I zoom towards him attempt to grab the pouf as I pass him. He sees me coming right before I get there, and swoops off to my left. I turn and take off toward him, but am surprised that Linor has, surprisingly, joined the game and stolen the pouf.

I turn and try to find out where Kathryn had gone. I spot her heading toward Linor and race over. Noticing the tilt of her head, I fly underneath her and catch the pouf she has dropped. As I accelerate toward the goal posts, I move into the Quidditch mindset. Although I am not as passionate about the game as Mark, I do love the feeling of zooming around the field. When I play, the world shrinks to only include the field, and that relief is unbeatable.

Alex is flying around the center post. Although he is pretty good, I feel I can get the pouf by him. Taking a quick feel to try to measure the difference in weight between the Quaffle and this pouf, I aim for the left hoop and shoot. By not giving myself much time to aim, I am able to score the first point of the game.

I turn and fly back across the field, ready for the game to continue. Mark flashes me a look that says he'll get revenge, but I am not deterred. The glare is common on the pitch.

Linor is flying on my left. She has a bit of a smirk that I like seeing. She loves to win, and now that she's decided to play, she's playing to. I think to the perfect drop pass we did, and wonder if we still have that connection that I had thought lost after last year. I have no time to worry about this now, however, as Kathryn is coming down the field, pouf in hand.

The game continues quite competitively. Teddy and Kathryn keep us from getting back at the posts, and when we accidentally let them through, Teddy makes a pretty spectacular save. I don't think about the fact that I'm on detention. I don't think about the fact that Professor Potter may come back at any minute, I just play.

A little later, with the score 30-10 in our favor which is likely due to Teddy, Professor Potter returns to the field. The action stops quickly, but, instead of panic, I feel relief. We all fly down and dismount. Professor Potter strolls toward us with a knowing look on his face.

"All finished," he says when he reaches us.

"Yeah," I reply, "nice and shiny."

"Good, well then I'll guess I'll see you all on Monday."

"So we're not in trouble," Alex says frantically. Tactless time to ask, but a good question.

"For what?' Professor says, "I didn't see a thing. Good night."

After he leaves I turn to Mark and Kathryn. "See I told you we wouldn't get in trouble, and I told you I would kick your ass."

"Whatever," Mark says, "we would have won if we had kept playing."

"Bull," Teddy adds," I guess we can go back up to the castle." We start off, but I stop. Once again, Linor is walking a little ways behind us.

"You guys go ahead," I say over Mark and Teddy's Quidditch talk. Cautiously, I slip back to where Linor is standing.

"Hey," I say carefully, "good game."

"Thanks." She seems completely uninterested in me. "You too."

"So…"

"Look," she snaps, "I'm not interested."

"You don't even know what I'm about to say."

"Yeah, I do. I'm sorry, let's put it behind us, you're my bloody BFF. I'm not interested."

"I get it. I did something inexcusable, but that was then. True, most people don't change, but why won't you take the chance that I have."

"Because I know, full well, that you haven't. You still only care about yourself. You still meddle where you have no place to. You still…"

"So I have no place trying to help my friend? I was pushing you where you wouldn't push yourself."

"No, you were sick of me talking about it. You were trying to resolve the situation as quickly as possible, regardless of the outcome."

"I wanted the best for you."

"You wanted me to stop." She stops walking and turns to me. "I don't get it. Why would you do something so stupid? You're smart, obviously, so you knew that it would turn out badly, but you talked to him anyway. Why did you want to hurt me?" As much as I want to tell her she's wrong, there's some part of me that knows she's right. It was about my annoyance. It was about me. It should have been about her. Even so, I didn't want to hurt her.

"I didn't," I choke out, lost for words.

"Whatever."

"I just wanted you to stop worrying about him." The words come from somewhere inside of me, but I don't summon them. "You knew it wouldn't work out, and don't try to tell me you didn't. I understand that I screwed up, but can't you forgive and just get over it."

"I am over it." She looks at me with anger etched onto the worry lines that have permanently settled on her face. "But I will not trust you again. I will not allow you to hurt me again."

"I won't."

"Maybe not, but I can't risk it. I can't risk having a friend who may hurt me. Good night."

As she storms off, I feel myself wanted to talk back. I cannot let her have the last word. "Is that why you don't have any friends at all? With anyone you trust there's a risk that they betray that trust, but that doesn't mean we don't take the chance. If you are going to be too afraid to make the risk, then you are going to spend life alone."

She turns back to me and glares. She looks like she's about to yell at me, but decides against it. She shakes her head and walks back toward the castle. I give her a minute to put some distance between us before following. My mom once told me that if someone is truly your friend, then it is always possible to repair any damage to your relationship. My mom also told me that Madame Dolores graduated from St. Steven's School for Exceptional Children. There's a lot my parents don't know.

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Sometimes I just want to scream. I let it build up, and it has to come out. Somehow, however, I keep from bursting, or maybe I've just postponed the explosion. I can't let it happen. I have to be the strong one for Kathryn and Mark. They don't realize it, but they put pressure on me to be stable. I'm not, though. No one is.

Saturday is one of those times. I'm getting nowhere with Linor, school is school. I hate standing still. After dressing and eating breakfast, the three of us work on homework in the common room before Mark and I head for Quidditch Tryouts.

I'm worried about finding a new Seeker. There position is vital, and without a strong seeker, the game is lost. Beaters are easier. Lots of people can hit things.

We get to the pitch and get dressed. Flying out on the field, I can see the first groups of potential players coming from the castle. I notice a couple of the guys from my room, but most people I've only seen here and there.

"So," Anjali says after we've all warmed up a little. "I think I'm going to let a couple of potentials out at a time as one of the positions. You two," she nods her head in my direction and I see that Mark is flying next to me, "should be careful because I'm telling the beaters to play as though they are on the opposing team."

Tryouts are uneventful. Mark and I play decently with the exception of a pretty impressive shot I make on Ann Marie. We manage to get a really talented fourth year named Michael Morrison as our seeker. No one, with the exception of our current remaining beater Julie, shines, but Todd from my room does quite well and gets the slot. As is expected, other team captains come out to spy on our team, but I pay them no mind.

After practice, I hold back to give the potentials time to change first. "Go ahead," I say to Mark who looks anxious as he waits with me, "I'll see back at the castle. Plus, it'll give you two some private time."

"Thanks, man," Mark says, "you're the best." Liar. He sprints off to the changing room leaving me alone of the pitch. I begin to lazily fly about enjoying a small moment to myself.

"Wilson," a voice calls from beneath me. I look down and see James Grayson, Linor's brother and Slytherin Quidditch captain. He appears to be waving me toward him. I sigh. From what I can tell, he's an arrogant prick who thinks he's the best Quidditch player in Hogwarts history. This will be dreadful.

"What?" I say flying toward him. Why can't I just be one of those people who ignores it?

"You've been talking to my sister." Great. Now he's arrogant and overly protective.

"Look," I say, "It's none of your business what I say to your sister."

"I know," he says. He does? "I just want to ask you to keep trying."

"Excuse me?" Is popular pretty boy Grayson showing compassion?

"She needs a friend. I think you're good for her."

"Ok," I respond hesitantly.

"Great. By the way, nice shot back there." He walks of the pitch in his usual haughty way. I turn and enter the changing room which is empty by now. I'm confused, which doesn't happen often. How does he know I'm talking to her? Why does he care? And, most confusing of all, why did I like it so much when he complimented me? I still feel like bursting, but after that conversation, in a much different way than a scream.


	7. Chapter 7: Friends

Chapter 7: Friends

Teddy

------------------

I'm getting better. I'm opening up, and it scares the hell out of me. I want to make friends, I want to trust people, but I don't know if I can. What happens when someone shows me the reason I was closed in the first place? I don't want to be the loner. I don't want to have no friends, especially now that I have one, but I'm afraid. Fear is weakness, and I can't be weak. I have to dive into this head on. I'm going to try.

The week after our detention passes without event. Class, homework, and the endless cycle of annoyances are all the fills my life at Hogwarts. One thing is different this week, however. I'm supposed to join Mark in the Great Hall this Saturday for a few games of Wizard's Chess. I'm not exactly sure why I agreed to do this, I hate Wizard's Chess, but I suppose it may be more fun with a friend.

We meet for lunch. As I walk down, a feeling of dread fills me. What if he brings Jones and Kathryn? I'm pretty sure they hate me. God, this is going to suck. But then, I see him, alone.

"Hey," I say sitting next to him and grabbing a sandwich from the tray in front of me.

"Hey," he replies smiling. Is the smile genuine? Is someone actually happy to see me? "How were classes for you this week?"

"As advertised, they were boring and homework filled. I'm not a huge fan of classes."

"I can understand. Sometimes it can just be too much. We got quite a bit of homework. Jones and Kathryn are stuck in the common room trying to get it done. I probably should have joined them, but we had plans."

"Oh, sorry. I wouldn't want to distract you." Great he didn't even want to be here.

"No, I needed the excuse. I'd much rather hand out with a friend then do homework anyway. I can get it done later." Wow. He considers me his friend. I don't think anyone has ever said that about me.

We chat about Quidditch, teachers, and our workload as we finish our lunch and pull out the chess set.

"I have to warn you," he says with a smirk, "I'm as good at this as I am at Quidditch."

"Guess you suck then," I joke. Instantly, I regret it. Way to offend the one friend you have. Then, to my surprise, he laughs.

"Ouch, man. I suppose you did beat me at detention."

"Well, you'll beat me at this. I pretty much suck. Whenever I play at Christmas with the Weasleys I always lose pathetically."

"I hear they're pretty good, so maybe you won't."

"True. Of course it's the only thing they're good at so…"

"You're a little harsh. You and Jones should get along fine."

"Really," I hesitate, slightly afraid to take the conversation in a deeper direction, "I'm pretty sure he hates me."

Mark pauses for quite some time, just short of being awkward. I think he knew I was right. "He doesn't hate you. He just…" again he pauses, searching for the right words. "Jones is very closed off. He judges people so quickly and harshly, and then he just shuts them out." Ring any bells? "You two have so much in common, though. You both have the same sense of humor. You should try to befriend him."

"I don't think he'll be interested."

"I think you'll be surprised. Why don't the three of us study on the grounds next week? It'll give you two a chance to talk."

So, I'm going to try. I'm going to take risks. Here goes a big one. "Ok, sounds like fun."

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The week is punctuated by the start of Quidditch practice and excuses to cancel on Mark and Jones. The Gryffindor team starts strong; we have a great team this year. Our captain and Seeker, Jennifer Billingsly chose two pretty great chasers to replace those who left, Harry Fletcher and Victoire Weasley. The idea of having Victoire on the team is a little upsetting because she can be annoying, but she plays really well for a second year. I have high hopes for this season, and can't wait for our first game against Slytherin.

Meanwhile, I'm constantly trying to convince myself that this study party bull is going to be a disaster. Numerous times throughout the week, I come up with another reason not to go, but I always tell myself that it will be fine. I have to put my neck out there if I want to have friends.

On Friday, at practice, Jen asks me if I can come in to give Victoire and Harry some practice. "If you can't I totally understand. It is last minute." Here it is, the perfect excuse. If I want out, now's the time.

"Um, can we do it in the evening? I have plans that afternoon." No turning back now.

"Ok, sure! See you just after dinner." Here goes.

The next day, I make my way to the tree I'm supposed to meet Jones and Mark by. Now that I've decided to go, I'm actually kind of happy to be going. Jones won't get too annoying with Mark there. My plans, however, are crushed when I see Jones sitting alone at a bench by the tree.

"Hey Teddy." He says with disdain evident in his voice.

"Where's Mark?" This is rapidly going wrong.

"He said something came up suddenly with Kathryn. I suspect it was a lie to make us talk to each other."

"Oh, well I suppose we better get to work." I am determined to stay positive about this, a difficult feat for me. This is a blessing in disguise. I notice he has his DADA book on his lap. "Oh, you're going to study defense? That's cool. I love that class. If you need any help, let me know. I got full marks…"

"I don't want or need your help." Whoa. A little harsh, buddy?

"Sorry, I didn't mean to insult you. I'm just good at that class."

"I'm sure your blessed godfather gives you full marks all the time, but that doesn't make you good at it." Hell no. I won't let him insult my intelligence or my family.

"Bollocks! I earn my grade and Harry would never play favorites like that."

"Have you met him? He's all about family and house politics. Two things you share with him." I feel myself tense with anger. Hold it back, Teddy, don't do anything stupid.

"Shut up," I seethe, "You have no bloody idea what you're talking about."

"Yeah I do. Everyone feels sorry for you and your daddy issues, but I see right through that shit to the nasty, angry little boy who just needs to grow up." In a flash, I grab his collar. I'm about to swing when I realize what I'm doing. Reluctantly, I loosen my grip. Jones pushes away from me and grabs his stuff. "Told you." I almost want to hit him again, but I let him walk away. As he does, he says exactly what I am thinking. "I knew this was a mistake."

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Mark approaches me at lunch on Monday. "Sorry about that," he says before I address him. I wonder if he is really. "Jones can be a total jerk sometimes."

"What were you and Kathryn doing?"

"Actually, we were just studying in the common room. I figured you and Jones would…"

"Come to dislike each other more if that's even possible?"

"Yeah, I sort of screwed up there, but he'll come around. Trust me." Jones stop being a dick? Not bloody likely.

"Ok, sure." I see in his face that he knows I'm upset. "Hey, Master Langely is trying a new thing where he lets students sign up to play informal Quidditch games on the weekends. Do you want to go play this weekend?"

"Will Jones be there?" I reply quickly.

"Well, I think it would be best if he wasn't."

"Okay, cool. See you then." Unlike last week, I'm excited about this. I love Quidditch, and Mark and I have a chance to play together. The week is almost Quidditch themed. When I'm not at practice, I'm thinking about the upcoming game. Saturday doesn't come fast enough.

When it does, I grab my gear and head for the pitch. A bit of a crowd has gathered to idly watch the game. I feel the familiar rush of adrenaline that I always get before a game. I spot Mark inside, alone as promised. "Hey!" I call.

"Hey," he replies walking over, "I figured you'd want to play keeper like normal, so that's what I signed you up for. Is that okay?"

"Yeah, whatever's cool." Soon, Master Langely strides onto the field carrying a broom and the box of balls.

"Ok, kids," he yells, "Those of you not playing please have a seat in the stands, and I'll give the teams a minute to strategize."

We have a pretty even group of house players and people playing for fun. I have mixed feelings when I find out that Slytherin Captain James Grayson and his best friend, the Slytherin seeker Gregorio Hager, are on our team, but I push it aside. When we mount, I get a good look at the other team. I smirk as I see they have only two house players to our four.

The game goes as expected. We take an early lead and I let only two Quaffles by. Before I know it, Hager has caught the snitch and the game is over with a score of 170-20. I meet Mark back in the changing room afterwards. "Great game," I say.

"You too," he responds with a smile, "do you want to go watch the next one?"

"Sure," I say. We make our way to part of the stands. It takes me a minute to realize that Mark is looking for someone. I glance around the stands, and I spot her, Kathryn McNeil. Great, now I have to deal with her. Mark spots her and motions me to follow him. Well maybe this will be okay. I should hope for the best, right?

Mark slides in next to her, and I reluctantly sit on his other side. I pay little attention to them as the game goes on. The next group is almost entirely non-players, and the game is a lot more evenly matched. The seekers seem hopeless, but the Chasers are actually quite good. I notice some pretty impressive plays I think of suggesting at practice later in the week.

"I'll be right back," Mark says suddenly. I realize it may have not been sudden; I just hadn't been paying attention. He slides out without saying where he's going. I am alone with Kathryn. Part of me screams to just remain silent, at least not to instigate any conversation. But then I remember my personal pact. I am going to try and make friends.

"Nice game, huh?" I say hesitantly.

She puts down here book, which is surprisingly _Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4,_ "Why are you talking to me?" Okay, not what I was expecting.

"I was being courteous?"

"Well I don't need your courtesy. You don't like me, and I don't like you." Well, now I know where we stand.

I breathe, attempting to stay calm. "So, we had a bit of a bad incident on the train. Can't we put that behind us?"

"No. People don't change."

"Kathryn, come on," Mark's voice says from behind me.

"What, Mark, I'm just being honest," she replies turning back to her book.

"I asked you to be nice." Um, what? What am I your charity case?

"I don't need you to tell people how to treat me," I say without meaning to. Well now that I'm started, "I can take care of myself, Mark. I have to go." Fuming I leave the pitch. How dare he try and make people be my friend. I'm not that desperate.

Frustrated I make my way back to the dorm. I flop on my bed and stare at the ceiling. Is Mark really my friend? Maybe he just pretends because he feels sorry for me. Maybe Jones is right. Everyone pities the poor orphan. Well, screw them. I don't need their pity. Maybe friends aren't exactly as advertised.

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I intentionally avoid him for the next week. I'm furious. How could he act like I was so helpless? Classes are a blur as usual. I'm back to the angry depression. I hate it. I am looking forward to the alone time this weekend. Last class Friday is unfortunately Charms, but I know I can make it.

Time moves slower than I thought possible. I'm finding myself thinking seconds are too long. When finally, class is over. The weekend is here. I stand to leave the class when I hear something that cannot be good. "Mr. Tonks, can I talk to you for a moment."

I reluctantly sigh and approach Professor Mulligan's desk. She watches the door and waits for everyone to leave.

"I need to discuss a new stricter policy being enforced for Quidditch players. Professor Bane has made it very clear that she expects academics to come before involvement in sports teams."

This sounded awful, "Ok."

"Well, I've noticed that your grades have taken a turn these past few weeks, and well, if this trend is continued, you're going to be removed from the Quidditch team." Are you kidding? Is it the year of threatening to take away Quidditch?

"Fine." I turn to leave, angrier than I've been all week.

"I'm not joking here Mr. Tonks."

"I'm fully aware of that." I leave before she can reprimand me for disrespect. I storm towards the common room. This is stupid. Why can't these people just leave me alone! Maybe part of me doesn't want them too.

I round a corner and run straight into Victoire and Fred. Two people I really don't want to see right now. For all intents and purposes, they're like annoying kid cousins who won't leave me alone.

"Oh, hey Teddy, going to practice?" Victoire says in her normal cheerful voice. Is it bad that I can't stand her because her parents lived?

"I think the team's going to be really great this year. As long as Slytherin doesn't win the house cup again," Fred adds with a smile. How can these two be so bloody happy all of the time! Are these the only real friends I have? Am I doomed to only associating with these people for the rest of my life? Is that better than being screwed over by someone I thought was a friend?

"I have to get some stuff before practice." I lie, "see you in a little bit?"

"Ok, cool," Victoire says and we separate. I continue toward the common room, and am surprised by how few people I see. I climb a staircase and finally run into someone, and it's one of the worst people I could run into.

Linor Grayson is sitting by a window scribbling something on to a piece of parchment. I continue down the hall, determined to ignore her, but she hears me and looks up. "What are you doing here?" she asks.

"Walking. Last time I checked you didn't own this hallway." I continue.

"Why are you such a jerk to everyone?"

"And you're one to talk? Miss bitch of the universe."

"You have a point, not even my own brother wants to talk to me." I notice that she's been crying. Instantly the situation becomes much more awkward. She looks so pretty when she's vulnerable. Wait a minute, what am I thinking?

"I'm sure you'll work it out. I wouldn't actually know as I have no siblings of my own, but I think that's how it works." Why is it easy to talk to her?

"That's right Mommy and Daddy died before they could procreate again. Sorry about that." Coming from another mouth, I'd be pissed. For her, though, I just accept it. Maybe this is what friendship is like.

"I heard about your dad." I say instantly regretting it, now this conversation will likely turn ugly.

"I did too. You're so lucky."

"What?"

"Your Dad was dead before you really even knew him. There's no real memories. You're not really missing him. You didn't have to say goodbye." I'm floored. I'd never thought about it like that at all. "Why the hell am I spilling my guts to the guy who broke my nose?"

"I guess sometimes, it's strange who you can actually trust." I'm not conscious of my brain forming the words.

"I don't trust you." She leaves without looking back. I can tell how desperate she was to get out before she got too far in. I felt the urge too, but I fought it. You never know who you'll become friends with. You never know who you have things in common with. I think I can be her friend, and it scares the hell out of me. But I'm going to try.


	8. Chapter 8: Check

Chapter 8: Check

Linor

---------------------

_Linor,_

_Look, I get it. Dad's sick. I know it's bad, but I honestly don't give a shit. I'm done with our lovely parents. I'm not going to come back because it'll just be like before I left. I'm not going to be the son they want, they aren't going to be the parents I want, and that's that. I'm done with them. If Dad dies, I'm sorry. I know how much that's going to suck for you, but I won't care. For me, he's already dead._

_I'm not done with you. You've always been a great sister, and I don't want to ruin our relationship just because of my relationship with Mom and Dad. I want you to feel like you can come to me with problems, and, in most cases, I'll do whatever I can. This isn't one of those cases. I can't deal with them. I'm sorry._

_How's James? He's ignoring my letters, and I'm worried he's getting involved with the wrong things. I would rather he became Dad then Uncle Matthias. I know you shouldn't have to watch out for him, but please do. He's too smart to get wrapped up in that stuff._

_I hope that Dad gets better; I really do, but only for your sake. If something happens, I'll be here for you._

_Love you, sis._

_David_

The letter arrives at breakfast on Monday. I want to tear it up. The selfish prick! How dare he claim to care when he won't even do a single bloody thing! James is attempting to read over my shoulder and I'm tempted to let him. He should see how he looks to everyone else. He's become even more distant than normal. I don't. What does David's stupid opinion matter?

I get it. I know why he's like this. He's rebelling. He desperately wants to be his own person, and my parents don't like it. He's always had more expectations placed on him than James or me. He's the heir. The Grayson name passes through him. And in this backwards blood obsessed society, that matters more than most things. He wants to travel the world; they want him to stay here. For my brother, more independent that even I am, this means that, at the first possible chance, he had to leave. And he did. I almost wish I could, too.

I can't. Dad and I are too close. As much as Mom can be a pain, I couldn't leave my father behind. It seems now, however that this may not be an issue. I haven't heard any news about the sickness. The letters don't give details about that, probably intentionally. I'm tense every moment waiting for the bad news. I know it's coming, it's inevitable.

Jones continues to pester me. I don't understand why he can't just take a hint. It's over between us. It always will be. It's not even about the stupid Billy thing anymore. He's just not good for me.

"So what selfish crap did David spout?" James says as we walk down the hall.

"He said that he's not going to go see Dad."

"Not surprising. At least Dad isn't sick anymore, so…"

"You know it'll come back as well as I do. He also said to keep you from doing whatever crap you're doing."

"God, when will you two realize that I'm not dabbling in drugs or dark magic? I'm just playing Quidditch and hanging out with friends."

"And mysteriously disappearing at random times." Before he can answer, Jones appears at the end of the hall. "Not again," I say grabbing James and heading down another hall.

"I do not disappear, and what…oh Wilson. You should just forgive him already."

"No, he only wants my friendship to lift his guilt."

"Well, talk about that with him. I'm going to go disappear." He hurried ahead leaving me alone. Surreptitiously, I make my way around and towards the dungeons. I manage to get to Transfiguration without running into him. Maybe James is right, but I won't cave. He's not worth it.

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The letter arrives at breakfast on Tuesday. I'm eating a piece of toast as Josiah, the family owl, swoops down and deposits it in front of James and me. It's addressed to both of us. I know instantly what's inside. I stare at the letter for a long time, as though if I delay opening it, it will change. James doesn't even notice. I feel like punching him. Doesn't he care? Doesn't he know what this means.

I cautiously pick up the envelope and turn it over. The Grayson family seal is emblazoned on the back. I run my finger over it before breaking it to open the letter

_Darlings,_

_I'm sorry to have to be writing this letter, but it is important that you are not kept in the dark. A couple weeks ago, your father began to feel his symptoms again. We rushed to St. Mungo's, of course, and they gave him some potions, but it has not had any affect. Last night, it was recommended that he return to full time care at the hospital. Please do not worry, he will beat this again. I have secured permission from your new headmistress to have you two out here this Saturday to see him. He will greatly appreciate it. _

_Love as Always,_

_Mother_

How can she sound so calm and formal about this? I was right. He's going to die. It's starting now. James finally looks over to me. "Is that from Mom?" he says incredulously.

"Yeah, Dad's back at St. Mungo's," I say calmly, but not like Mom. Mom is pretending it's not happening. I've just gone numb.

"What?" He grabs the letter from my hand and scans it quickly. "No, see he's fine. He'll be out of there in no time."

"James, this letter is from our mother, the same woman who refused to acknowledge it when David left. This is the same woman who wouldn't go to her own father's funeral. She is trying to pretend it's not happening, just as she's done this whole time."

"Look, you're overreacting…"

"Am I?" I yell. I instantly look around. I'd forgotten where I am. People stare, some more intently than others. At the Ravenclaw table, I see Jones. He sees me looking and gives me a knowing look. I feel like punching him. I fly out of the hall. My brain is going crazy. As much as I felt I was prepared for this, I'm not. No one can ever be. It's happening, and I'm stuck in this stupid school! Saturday cannot come fast enough.

"Linor are you okay?" Jones calls, catching up to me.

"Why the hell do you care? Can you please just leave me be?"

"No, I care about you. Is your Dad sick again?"

"Of course. That's what happens. It comes back, and then they die."

"I'm sorry."

"You really aren't."

"Don't tell me how I feel."

"I say the same to you. This is absolutely none of your business."

"You're my business, so by extension…"

"No! I'm not! I'm not your friend. You have no business worrying about me."

"But you were."

"I'm aware, but you seem to not realize that "were" is past tense."

"And you don't seem to realize that we can be friends again."

"Why? Why do you want to be friends again?"

"Because you get me. You're the one person who knows where my head is when even I'm lost."

"No, I'm not. I have no idea what's in your head. I have no idea what's causing you to stalk me trying to make me your friend. I have no idea why you can't seem to realize that I just want to be left alone."

"No, you don't. That's the secret. You want someone with you more than anything. You have no friends; your brothers don't understand you. All you have is your Dad, and he's dying. _I_ get it, but you don't seem to. You need me just as much as I need you."

He's right, and I hate it. I know I need somebody. I can't be an island, but I'm not giving him that satisfaction. I walk away. I'm sick of this. I'm sick of it all. As childish as it sounds, it's just not fair. I want something good to happen, but I know full well it won't.

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He is reading an extremely thick novel when I enter the room. I remember the one he finished during the summer. Always an optimist, he looks at this as time to catch up on his reading. Does he get it? Does he realize how little time he has left?

"Hi, Daddy," I say from the door. He's in a private room tucked into the bed. He looks paler than the last time I saw him.

"Hello to you as well, baby girl." I don't know how to feel. I'm so happy to see him, but at the same time, my heart is heavy. This could be it.

"How you feeling, Dad" James calls from behind me. I'd forgotten he was there.

"Unfortunately, not well. I'm afraid that I may be dying." I almost lose it. I shut my eyes to prevent tears.

"You'll be fine, Dad. You beat this once; you can do it again."

"I hope." There's so much I want to say, but I can't. Words won't come out. I just stare at this man who means everything to me. I want to tell him everything that's inside of me but I can't. I'm not strong enough.

"I know, darling," he says looking at me, "I love you too." I turn and leave the room. I don't want him to see me cry which is stupid. He's seen me cry before, but I have to be strong so he can be. I can't give up on him. I'm wandering going nowhere. I need so much to not be here, but at the same time, there's nowhere else I could possibly be. I wander back to his door. James has left.

"Your brother went to grab something from a snack cart."

"Oh," I reply still unable to find the right words.

"Sometimes, Linor, it's okay to have nothing to say." I approach my father and sit in the chair by the bed.

"Dad, I don't want you to die." That's it. Everything. It seems so simple now that I've said it out loud.

"I don't want to die either, but sometimes, you don't have control. Sometimes you have to give up and hope that whatever you've done was enough."

"I don't think those words of wisdom work on life as a whole."

"Of course they do. I've have a great life raising my beautiful children, and there's nothing more I can ask for." I consider these words. Has he done enough? Will I be okay? I don't see how I can be. I feel like my life is being ripped from me. We sit in silence for a long time. Just sit. And knowing that this could be it, knowing this could be my last chance to say anything I need to say, that's enough.

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Jones is waiting outside of Professor O'Neely's office when James and I return to through the fireplace. "How is he?" he says to me.

"Why do you care?"

"Because I want him to be okay, so that you can be okay."

"He's fine," I respond curtly.

"It's okay to feel things, Linor."

"So now were criticizing me?"

"You can't keep it all bottled up. It's okay to talk about it. It's okay to cry about it. It's a big deal."

"And you want me to talk about it to you. So that you can feel better."

"For the love of God, Linor! Why can't you just accept the fact that you matter to me. Why can't you see that I just want you to be okay?"

"Because you don't, Jones. You want to feel better about yourself. You want to feel that you didn't screw up as bad as you did. You don't want to have the blood from our fallout on your hands. Well, it doesn't matter. It's there, buddy. You broke us, and we can't be fixed."

"Says who? Why can't we just move on?"

"And you prove my point. You just proved to me that you care only about our relationship. You just proved that this isn't about you caring about me. It's about you. Everything you do is about you. What's going on with my father, however, has nothing to do with you, so stop shoving yourself where you don't belong."

"That's not fair. You're twisting my words."

"Am I?"

"Yes! I care about you; therefore, I care about our relationship. They're not mutually exclusive. In fact, they're distinctly inclusive. As I said before, we need each other. We're the only ones who understand how to get past the screwed up parts of each other."

"Well, I think we're just too screwed up to work. I'm sorry."

"No, you're giving…"

"Jones, I don't have the energy to deal with this. My dad is dying, and that's taking up all the room I have in my emotions. I don't have space for dealing with you. Please, just leave me be."

"No."

"Fine." I leave. I'm so sick of these conversations. Why can't he just listen to me? This would be so much easier if he was wrong. He gets me more than anyone else, but it's that knowledge of each other that makes us not work. In a way, despite the incredibly stupid way he did it, he helped me give up on Billy. It just hurts too much to be seen and understood so completely. It's too hard. I don't have the strength right now. I have too much else to deal with.

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_David,_

_Dad's back at St. Mungo's. I know you don't care, but I think you should know. I don't think he has much time left; this is your last chance. Don't let things go unsaid because you'll regret it forever._

_Linor_

I send the letter after Breakfast on Monday. I mean every word. I think David will regret it if he doesn't talk to Dad, but, at the same time, I know he won't. He's too stubborn. He won't forgive Dad long enough to say goodbye. Mom won't admit that Dad's going to die. Dad won't stop fighting this until the very end. James won't stop doing things that are going to bite him in the end. I won't let Jones back in even though part of me wants to. Stubbornness runs in the family.


	9. Chapter 9: Practice

A/N: Another short chapter. Sometimes, it's just going to happen.

Chapter 9: Practice

Mark

--------------

I swerve down to dodge Jones coming at me. I swoop to the left around Julie and straight on to the goal posts we're using. I have a clear shot only having to get past Ann Marie, which is a feat in itself. I make like I'm going to feign but then follow through on the shot. The Quaffle zooms through, and I smile. At least I'm good at this.

We've been fighting; she can just be so harsh sometimes.

"Great shot, Mark" Anjali calls from across the field, "I think in two weeks, we'll definitely be ready for the match." The buzz in the school is unbearable. Two weeks from today, the first game of the season, Ravenclaw vs. Hufflepuff. I feel like we have a real chance this year. The team is good, better than we were last year. I think it may happen.

It's my fault, I know. Relationships are about compromise, and I have to accept that she's just more critical than I am. It comes with being as smart as she is.

I catch sight of Jones when he doesn't know I'm looking. He's upset, I know it, and I know he doesn't want me to see it. He tries too hard to hold it in. I play along. Pretend I don't notice, but whether it's for him or for me, I can't say. I'm not good at talking about it. I let it fester as well.

I like her a lot. At least, I think I do. I don't have much to compare it to.

We go again. I fly around the field ready to receive a pass or distract one of the beaters. Ann Marie is on defense this time. We practice late into the night.

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When she came over the next day, I was extremely nervous. I felt more like I was proposing than asking her out. I suppose I was worried about what would happen if she didn't like me back. I couldn't bare an instant end to our friendship. Several times throughout the morning, I contemplated not going through with it, but whenever I did, Jones gave me a look. He's almost a mind reader when it comes to Kathryn and me.

He disappeared just before she showed up, likely to prevent me using him as an excuse to not tell her. She stepped out of the fire and smiled when she saw me. I felt like I was going to explode.

"Where's Jones?" she asked first thing. To be honest, that made me a little angry, but I decided to not let it bother me.

"He had to go home today," I responded. "It's just the two of us." The words are scary to me. "I thought we could go eat out in the meadow." I figure although picnics are a little cliché, you shouldn't mess with the classics.

"Oh, okay," she said with a look in her eye that made me think she suspected something was up. I brushed it off; I can't back down now.

We walked out on to the grass in an awkward silence. I spread out the blanket in awkward silence. We start eating in awkward silence.

"I never really liked picnics," Kathryn finally said and I crumble. My whole plan had gone straight down the drain.

"Fantastic," I muttered.

"What? You couldn't have known that so don't worry."

"Well it's just that I planned to tell you I like you by doing something nice for you, and now that failed."

"What?" I realized too late what I said.

"Oh," I stuttered, "I, um, like you."

The silence seemed to stretch on forever. "Really?"

"Yeah," I replied looking straight at her this time.

"Me too," was all she was able to reply.

We sat in silence again. "Well," I said breaking the final silence, "are we…"

"Yeah," she responded, "I'd like that." After that, there's no more awkwardness. That part is over. We went right back to us again. It was like old times, nothing changed. The change came later. It's not effortless like it was that first time. I can't help but think that that means something bad. Maybe I'm wrong; I don't know. I'm not very good at this.

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"Are you okay?" Jones asks after practice.

Desperate to avoid this topic I attempt to change the subject, "are you?"

"This isn't about me. You and Kathryn have seemed off."

"Well, we are a little bit, but it's no big deal. You've seemed off."

"This is the first time you've actually asked me about a problem I've had."

"We've talked about you before."

"Yes, but I always initiate it."

"Well, I'm trying to be a better friend."

"Well, since you ask, Linor is driving me crazy."

Now I'm stuck. I'm not good at advice, and especially in this instance, I don't know what to say. "Well, maybe she's right. Maybe you two just can't be friends again."

"Are you serious?"

"Well, yeah."

"I can't do that though. I owe it to her to make it better."

"Do you owe it to her or to yourself?"

"Whose side are you on?"

"I'm sorry I sort of suck at this." I'm digging myself deeper.

"You didn't used to."

"Well I can't be expected to just take your side all of the time."

"I do." He's right. Never once has he told me I'm wrong when I come to him with an issue.

"I'm sorry, but if this is causing you unnecessary pain then…"

"There's nothing unnecessary about this pain. I'm trying to right the wrongs in my life. God, why did I even ask you? Thank goodness I didn't bring up the other problem. That would have been worse."

I've screwed up badly, but no situation in unsalvageable. "No, I want to hear about it."

"I think I have feelings for her brother," he says bluntly wheeling around and looking straight at me. I'm reminded of Linor. Then I realize what it is he said. He was right. I have no idea what to say here. "I knew it." He walks alone back to the castle. I give him his space. I'm not good at this.

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I find Kathryn in the common room. "Hey," I say coming up behind her, "can I talk to you for a minute?"

"You're talking to me now, and of course." I take a seat on the couch next to her.

"I just wanted to apologize. I've been trying to force you to be someone you're not, and that's not fair of me."

"No, Mark. Don't sell yourself short like that. You're right to get mad at me for that. I'm too mean to people I know. It's not your fault that my people skills suck."

"Kathryn," I say hugging her. "You're beautiful and wonderful, and you don't suck with people. It's my fault okay."

"Thanks for lying."

"I'm not. I wouldn't like you if you were as bad as you think you are."

A beat. I stare at her. She stares back. Is this that moment? I lean in.

"What're you doing?" she asks suddenly.

"I was going to kiss you," I reply confused at why she stopped me.

"Here? Now?"

"Um…yes."

"No, I don't want it to be like that. Good night." She quickly gathers her things and leaves for her room.

We haven't kissed yet. I don't know why. Maybe it's because we haven't had a real date, but the time felt right. I'm floored. Does she not like me anymore? I don't get this. Forget not being good at this, I suck. I'm really trying, but I'm not getting anywhere. This is awful. I have to keep trying though. I want this to work. It can work; I know it.

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"Are you okay, man?" Teddy asks me the next day. I don't see him coming. I had been walking around the grounds just trying to clear my head.

"No," I reply, "Jones is angry at me and thinks he's gay, Kathryn doesn't want to kiss me, and neither of them seems to want to talk to me. It kind of sucks actually."

"I'm sorry; I wish I could do something." I look at Teddy closely. After all of the crap he's been through, some of which I caused, he can still be apologetic and kind. I admire that. I'd always seen him as just a bully, but I am again reminded that people are much deeper than they appear.

"What about you? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm cool." We walk around the grounds and we talk, seriously for the first time. Well, I talk. Teddy just listens. And it's great.

"So you have like seven siblings, right?" he says at some point. I can tell he's just trying to change the subject, but that's okay. He chose a good topic to make me feel better.

"Five," I reply smiling. "Elizabeth, Henry, Luke, Maria, and Jesse."

"Wow," he says, "your house must be ridiculous."

"A little, yeah." I realize how potentially disastrous this line of conversation could be. I don't want to brag about family and make him feel bad.

"I'm with the Weasleys and the Potters so much; they're kind of like siblings. Just around the holidays it gets nuts." I hadn't really figured this as something we'd have in common, but I'm glad it is. I'm closer to my family than I am to anything else. In fact, had it been last year, I would have gone to Elizabeth with these problems.

"Tell me about them," I say. We continue walking chatting about his family and mine. It makes me happy again. I'm good at family.

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At Monday's practice, I fly gracefully around the field ready for a pass. Jones throws the ball perfectly to me. I'm glad to see our fight hasn't affected our chemistry on the field. I fly around Julie once again but am not ready for Anjali right behind her. I fumble the Quaffle, but Jones picks it up.

Jones is always there to help pick me up. I have to make it better with him. That's step one.

Jones flies down the field and almost gets the ball past Ann Marie, but she moves just a little too quickly. "Nice save," Jones says sincerely before flying back for the next practice play.

I'm surprised that Teddy has become such a good friend. I suppose you never know how much people will really affect you.

Practice continues as always. We play a few more scenarios. I play okay. I'm excited for the game.

Things will be better with Kathryn. It's a momentary snag. If we like each other enough, we'll make it work. I know it. I'm not good at this, but I can get better.

We practice late into the night.


	10. Chapter 10: Tips

Chapter 10: Tips

Kathryn

---------------

I feel like such an idiot. I don't know why I wouldn't kiss him, and now I may have screwed it up. Well, I knew I would eventually. I had convinced myself it wouldn't happen this quickly, but I should have known. I just hope I won't lose him as a friend. I couldn't bear that.

"It'll be fine," Jones tells me Tuesday morning, "You're being stupid. You haven't broken up. Mark is not shallow enough to break up with you because you haven't kissed. There's more to a relationship then that. Sometimes you two can just be so…" He trails off. I pretend I don't hear the last part. I think he would rather I didn't.

He has a point I suppose. I'm assuming the worst, as always, but I can't just turn that part of me off. I don't work like that. I wish so much I did. But what's the point of wishing for something that will never happen.

After desperately trying to avoid him, I finally run into Mark after class. "Hey, Kathryn! Thank goodness. I've been trying to find you all day," he says running up to me. Has he really? That sounds like a good thing. Of course, he probably just wants to officially break up with me. "I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry. I shouldn't have tried to kiss you."

"No, I'm sorry. It's not that I don't want to kiss you…"

"No, it's fine. Are we fine?" A loaded question if I've ever heard one. But, I try not to think about it.

"Yes."

"Good, do you want to get some dinner?"

"Yeah."

That night I lie in bed for a long time going over every detail of our conversations over the past several days for the millionth time. I feel like I'm looking at this wrong. Is he really okay? I feel like he's still mad at me. I mean he says he's okay, but that can't be what he means. This is crazy. I just don't get people. I wish I could be more like Jones. He just seems to understand everything. Maybe it's just me that's so stupid about this.

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I get very little sleep. Before I know it, I'm back up and going back to class. It doesn't really faze me though. I'm used to it. I zone out a little in classes, but it's not like I need to hear this material. I'm still worried about Mark. I can't figure out how to make things better with him.

After class I head to the library to study. I can't concentrate on the book I'm reading for my paper. I'm crazy with worry. What am I supposed to do about this?

"Kathryn, can I talk to you for a moment." I look up and see Teddy standing above me because I definitely needed this situation to get worse.

"What do you want?"

"I need your help." Great, he's here to mess with me.

"Teddy, I'm really not feeling up to your crap right now."

"Look, put your resentment aside for a moment. I honestly need your help. You understand 4th year charms, right?"

"Um, sort of. I've read a lot. Why?"

"Because I need help in 4th year charms." This is almost comical, Teddy asking me for help. But at this moment, I can't deal with it. I have too much else on my plate.

"And you're asking me?"

"Yes. No one in my year likes me…"

"Neither do I."

"And I can offer you something in return." Oh this should be good.

"What can you possibly offer me in return?"

"I understand Mark."

"You barely know him."

"Can I be frank with you, McNeil? You suck at being a girlfriend. Mark is so good to you, and you can't seem to reciprocate that at all. You can't tell whether thing are good or bad in your relationship, and that makes it all seem bad for him. I can help you with that because I seem to understand mark a hell of a lot more than you do. So you'll tutor me in Charms, I'll tutor you in Mark, and we'll be even. What do you think?"

I can't find words. Part of me wants to yell at him, but the rest of me knows he's right. Maybe this is the way to make things better with Mark. "Okay."

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"Lesson one," Teddy says on Friday as we walk across the grounds, "don't assume there's some deep mysterious hidden meaning in anything he says or does. With Mark, hell with men in general, what you see tends to be what you get." We must look incredibly strange together, the nerdy, quiet Ravenclaw with the unstable Gryffindor Quidditch player. "That's your main problem. You over-analyze everything."

"How do you know?" A good question, if you ask me. Despite how much he may or may not know Mark, he doesn't know me.

"Two reasons. One, you're female. Two, I did my homework here. Mark ranted to me about your relationship, so I know what I'm talking about." Ranted? "In fact, right now you're analyzing what I said, probably trying to figure out if a rant has to be bad. Am I right?" Okay, so he does know what he's talking about.

"But how am I supposed to know what he means? People don't just always say everything they're thinking."

"True, but when it comes to the important stuff, Mark will talk to you about it. He won't talk to everyone, but he'll talk to you."

"But what if he doesn't?"

"See, this is your problem. Stop assuming everything is wrong."

"I can't just stop."

"I know. You have to work on it just like I have to work on that stupid charm."

"It's your wand grip. You're gripping it way too tightly for this spell."

"Thank you, I'll work on that. Can that just be our new designated response?"

"Fine. Thank you, I'll work on that. Jerk." This was getting weird. I couldn't possibly be forging a friendship with this idiot.

"You're welcome."

The weird thing is, it helps. That evening when we eat dinner with Mark, I try to not overanalyze everything Mark says. Whenever I find myself starting to worry about something, I stop. Well, I almost stop, but that almost makes a world of difference. Things would be perfect, if only Jones was there.

When Teddy and I met Mark after practice, I expected him to come with us, but he just sped on by and headed off. I'm worried about him. He never talks about his problems, and then they fester and get worse. I don't know how to make him open up to me. I barely know how to open up myself. The problem is that, now, he seems to be mad at Mark and me now. I don't know what I've done. That night, I don't sleep well again, but it's not Mark who's keeping me awake. I guess that's a start

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As usual, game week brings craziness from everywhere. I barely see Mark due to his practice schedule. The excitement in the school is tangible. I wouldn't be excited if Mark and Jones weren't on the team, but as they are, I'm hoping they play well. Due to the increasing booking of the pitch, Gryffindor has less time to practice; therefore, I see more of Teddy.

I stop dreading it. Helping him makes me feel accomplished and gives me a chance to actually practice these upper level spells, and he's helping me too.

On Wednesday, I finally get up the courage to ask for more help. "I just wanted you to know that you have, in fact, helped me with Mark."

"Well, thanks, but we're not out of the woods yet. I still have to get good marks on this paper, and you aren't all the way there either."

"I know, but I was wondering your opinion on another topic."

"Yes, you're pretty."

"What?"

"Oh, that wasn't what you were going to say, was it. It's just that you haven't asked the normal 'am I even pretty enough for him to like me' thing, and well I figure that was it, and now things are a little awkward. And now that I pointed that out, it's a lot awkward."

"Um…Thanks, I guess, but I was going to ask about Jones…"

"Oh, right. I don't think that Mark thinks anything will happen there, so you shouldn't worry about it. Unless you have feelings for him, which wouldn't surprise me. And now I've said completely the wrong thing again."

"Yes you have. Jones and I are just friends. Well, I think."

"Oh, he doesn't like you. Mark seems to think he's gay so…"

"What!?!"

"You know what, let's pretend that we didn't say any of that. You said, 'I was wondering your opinion on another topic'"

"Yeah, I was wondering if you think I'm overanalyzing things with Jones too."

"He hasn't really been talking to me, and I don't want to assume he's mad at me."

"Well, I'm not really good at Jones. The last time we talked, I almost hit him."

"Don't feel bad. A lot of people have that reaction."

"Anyway, I don't think he's mad at you. He's mad at Mark, and he thinks you'll take Mark's side so he's not bothering. That's my guess."

"So, how do I fix that?"

"I don't know! I don't get Jones, I already said that. He's so freaking annoying and pretentious that I can't stand to talk to him."

"He's my best friend."

"Right…"

"You have a tendency to say more than is necessary."

"I do. Thank you, I'll work on that." It hit me while I was lying awake late that night that I'd somehow become friends with Teddy Tonks. How the hell did that happen?

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"Ok, Kathryn, I think you're ready." Friday night before the first game. I'm not surprised that Teddy and I have plenty of space to study.

"Ready for what exactly?"

"My next lesson," he says. "You and Mark have this problem where you talk things out, but never actually resolve anything. So tonight, I want you to have an honest heart to heart with him."

As usual, I know he's right. "I'm afraid of saying too much."

"Well, you should be afraid of saying too little. There are deeper issues in your relationship that he's not going to talk to you about unless prompted."

"I thought you said that everything's better than I think it is."

"It's not bad, yet. You need to make sure he knows that you like him, too. He needs reminding. Just because he's a boy doesn't mean he doesn't also worry about whether or not you like him."

"Thank you. I'll work on that."

"Good, now what else should we do? The paper's in and now we just have to wait." We walk around the grounds talking about other classes and the upcoming game. Teddy explains to me that although our Chasers are probably the best collectively at the school, Hufflepuff's keeper is no joke. And something about their seeker going to be trying to catch the Snitch right away. I pretend to listen like I normally do when Quidditch comes up.

I'm trying to decide what exactly to say to Mark. He deserves to know everything, but I don't want to scare him away. Suddenly, as we pass the lake, I hear my name from across the grounds. I turn and see Mark bounding up to us. "Anjali let us out early to rest for the game. What are you two up to?"

"I was actually just leaving to do some homework," Teddy says with a smirk, "see you two tomorrow." Great, force me into it.

"Well, I guess it's just us then," he says grabbing my hand. We begin to walk toward the castle again. I have butterflies. It feels like it did before he told me he likes me.

"Hey, Mark." I say. No turning back now.

"Yeah."

"I like you a lot, and I want to be with you." He stops walking and turns to me, a confused look on his face.

"I'm glad. I like you too."

"Um, good." And with those few words, there's a shift in our relationship. It goes back to that relaxed ease. There's something to be said about this actually talking thing.

We walk back to the common room chatting about nothing. I like this. We get there and see a packed common room full of post game excitement. Mark elicits a round of applause from the group. He doesn't let go of my hand as he makes the rounds talking to people. I like the statement. I'm his and he's mine.

After a while of talking and laughing with strangers, easier with Mark there, Anjali is forced onto a table by two 6th years who're notorious for getting fire whiskey. In general, we're a pretty calm house, but sometimes people get a little crazy.

"Um, okay guys," she calls from the table, "I think it goes without saying that we've got the best team in the school and that we're going to slam Hufflepuff into the ground tomorrow, but…" I can't hear the rest of her sentence over the cheer that echoes across the common room. "Anyway, I think we all need to get a good night's sleep and be ready for tomorrow, team, so let's go."

Groans replace the cheers as she jumps off the table and heads for the stairs. "Night, babe," Mark says before planting a peck on my cheek. It's not a full blown kiss, but it's nice.

"You too, Wilson!" Anjali says when she reaches the foot of the stairs. For the first time, I notice Jones curled on a couch with a cup of butterbeer in his hands.

"I will, Patel, cool off," he replies in typical Jones fashion.

"You better." Maybe Teddy's advice can stretch to here too. Maybe talking will help.

"Hey," I say sitting next to him.

"Hey," he replies quickly.

"Are we okay?"

"As individuals or as an institution?"

"Both."

He looks up at me and raises his hand. He gestures between us, "yes." He points at me, "yes." He points on himself and stops for a moment, "I'll be fine."

"Really?"

"Yes. Stop worrying so much." He stands and places his cup on the table. "You heard the woman. Night."

"Good night." I can't help it that I worry about him, but maybe I should stop. I don't know. I'll need to work on that.


	11. Chapter 11: Games

Chapter 11: Games

Jones

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Patricia Lawrence is my role model. She exemplifies this idea, the idea of having what you want, that is admirable. It's not easy for her. She tries not to let her children see that, but I can. She fights to have the great husband, the amazing children, and the successful career. I don't know if that's what I want, but I admire the fact that she knows it is. I admire the fact that she went after it. I admire the fact that she is strong enough to go for it.

I'm not sure if my own mother ever fought for anything. I'm not sure about much of anything, regarding my mother. We've never really clicked, and I have no idea why. She claims to also have everything she wants, but I see right through it. There's a certain sadness in her eyes, always present. I don't know what put it there nor do I particularly care, but I know that she isn't strong enough to fight to fix it. My mother is complacent. I refuse to be. I want to be a fighter, a Patricia. I want to fight, but maybe the fighter just isn't in me. Maybe my own children will see the same sadness in my eyes, the same complacency. The thought of this terrifies me, for isn't that what happens to us all? We slowly become our parents.

Perhaps there's little to fear. Patricia is more my mother than Alanna Wilson ever has been. This summer, I became a fixture in the Lawrence family. I thought I would be an inconvenience, but it wasn't like that at all. I became the seventh Lawrence child, and I liked it. I wished that I truly belonged there. I suppose I don't. In the end, it was all smoke and mirrors. In the end, I am stuck with the circus people. In the end, I'm one of the freaks.

Mark is just as surprised as I am that Patricia can get off work to come to the game. She wasn't able to make it last year, so this will be the first time she sees us play. Well, him. She's his mother. She gives me a hug all the same. She does honestly care about me. That feeling is amazing.

"I figured that since both of my children's houses are playing, this would be a good game to come see," she says when Mark asks what she's doing here. I love that she makes it sound like it was easy for her to make it. She wants to make this about Mark. "Don't tell you brothers or sister, but I'll be pulling for Ravenclaw. None of my children are on the other team." My parents will never see a Quidditch game. For that matter, my parents will never see Hogwarts. I can't decide if I care.

Despite everything else going on in my head, I am completely focused on this game. That's what I love about Quidditch. For the length of the game, I can ignore everything else. All that matters is getting a red ball through a shiny hoop, a far easier task then trying to gain forgiveness or figuring out how you really feel about a person. Henry, Luke, and Maria, decked out in yellow, join us for breakfast. I'm reminded of the summer, eating meals with the whole family. Those meals were some of the best times of my life. I suppose that's one thing I want, a group of people who like me to share meals with, at least occasionally.

Eventually, Mark and I have to go to the pitch to get ready. We follow Anjali's lead and walk out the Great Hall to the cheers of our house table. I always find it funny. On most days, the majority of the house doesn't regard my existence, and when they do, it isn't in any variety of reverent way. On the days of games, however, I'm a hero, just like my six teammates. For one day, the whole house loves me. I really don't care. I don't need their ephemeral affection. That's a way I'm different from my mother. She thrives on the temporary adoration of an audience.

I suppose I've forgiven Mark. To be honest, there isn't much to forgive. It's not his fault he doesn't know what's going on in my head, and I was harsh on him. He had a point in this whole Linor craziness. I push it out of my mind. It's time for the game, and that has to be my focus.

We put on our blue robes, and it's like the flip of a switch. My mind knows only this game, and, although I normally wouldn't care, I'm on this team and want to win. Anjali climbs on top of a bench. "Okay, team," she calls, "it's time. We've been working long and hard toward this day, and it's going to be a good one. I can say, completely honestly, that we have a better team than they do, so it's vital that we focus out there. Let's give our house the win they want. Ready, guys?" The team lets out a cheer. I don't. I have gone into low energy operations. I don't do the "get pumped" thing. I am conserving all of my energy for the field.

We head for the tunnel and prepare to mount our brooms. I can hear the school and the numerous parents who have come to watch gathered outside, preparing for the game. Ever since Professor McGonagall opened up games to parents, their presence has been large and steady. I tune them out. The spectators are not important. All that's important is what happens on the field. Master Langely strolls out onto the pitch to the cheers of the crowd. We mount, as the booming voice of Jillian Baker, the Quidditch announcer for the second year in a row.

"Welcome to the first game of the year, Ravenclaw vs. Hufflepuff," she calls over the screaming crowd. "Please welcome our players to the field." We mount our brooms preparing for the announcement. "From Hufflepuff: Carroll, Henderson, Morgan, Coors, Fish, Smith, and Henderson!" I see yellow blurs zoom onto the field. I prepare to take flight. "From Ravenclaw…" We zoom out. I barely hear her call, "Patel, Wilson, Lawrence, Davis, Baldor, Krumpet, and Morrison!"

We take our lap around the field before assembling to start the game. I catch sight of the awkward handshake between Anjali and Brent Coors, the Hufflepuff captain, before we take our final positions. I'm starting center, flanked by Mark and Anjali, across from me, Richard Henderson, a sixth year. "I'm going to assume you guys will play nice," Master Langely says before releasing the bludgers and the snitch. He's probably right, but I wouldn't be surprised if he wasn't. He grabs the Quaffle and throws it in the air. I zoom forward, and grab it quickly before ducking under Henderson and heading for the goal. The game has begun.

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I couldn't sleep. I have that problem occasionally. I just sat there in bed while Mark slept across the room, unable to drift off. After a while, I got thirsty and walked to the kitchen. I expected it to be empty, but it wasn't. Patricia was sitting at the kitchen table drinking a cup of tea and looking at the storm that was going outside.

"Can't sleep?" she asked when I entered.

"Nope," I responded, "you either."

"Haven't really tried," she said, "I was just watching the storm. Have as seat." She waved her wand and my own cup of tea appeared.

"Thanks." I turned my attention to the storm. The trickle of rain provided its soothing rhythm. An occasional far off flash of lightening broke the monotony.

"I like watching storms. It's strangely calming."

"Um, yeah I guess."

"Don't say you agree with someone just to make them feel better, Jones. Never be afraid of having an opinion." Sudden advice wasn't what I was expecting at all.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. And thank you. You mean a lot to Mark. You make him happy, so thank you."

"You're welcome."

"As his friend, this home is yours now, whenever you need it. I think it's important that you know that. I suppose you do, however, or you wouldn't be staying with us this summer."

"I just don't like going home." I was surprised to find Patricia easy to talk to.

"I never did either, to be honest. It was lonely, all by myself in that big house. I suppose that's why I wanted so many children."

"Dreams come true."

"Yes, Jones, if you're willing to go for it they really do."

"I just don't fit in there, home I mean. I'm not like them in so many ways."

"And more like them than you realize." And I just accepted it. No argument or look of disbelief. That's her real magic. When she says something, there's this weight of truth attached.

"My parents have this vision of who I am, and I'm just…not."

"That is one of the hardest thing a parent has to do, darling. As a parent, you have this idea of what you want your child to be, but in the end, they are their own person. I never expected Elizabeth to try and become an Auror, but she is." Elizabeth had recently been accepted into Auror training, but I wasn't surprised by this. Elizabeth Lawrence is one of the most intelligent people I know.

"I can't even talk like this with my own mother. She just doesn't listen like you do."

"Well, to be honest, I doubt I could be open with Mark. It's late, Jones. Why don't you try to get to sleep?"

"Okay, good night." I walked back up to the room and fell asleep quickly. It wasn't until I looked back on the conversation that I realized that she hadn't agreed with a single thing I said, but I agreed with her completely. We had a number of late night conversations that summer, and I learned so much from her. My mother doesn't know how to talk to me. We've never been close, but Patricia fills that gap. Maybe it's not okay that I have mentally replaced my mother, but it's working for me. For now.

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I shoot the ball through the left goal point, barely missing Coors. "RAVENCLAW SCORES," is drowned out by the cheers from the stands. We've taken an early lead, 30-0, but we aren't in the clear yet. 100 points are completely out of my hands. Carroll takes the Quaffle and begins down the field. He's probably the best of their three and expertly dodges Krumpet's bludger and a charge from Anjali.

He performs a fantastic feint, but Ann Marie calls his bluff and catches the Quaffle. Mark has it now as we fly down the field in a loose formation. As Henderson charges him, he passes to Anjali who dodges a bludger. Finding her approach blocked, she back passes to me. I have a clear path, only needing to deal with Coors.

I hear an unfortunate crunch as a bludger collides with my arm forcing me to drop the Quaffle. Damn it, I need to pay better attention. Pain flares from my arm as I reach for my wand in my robes and with a quick, yet painful spell, reset the bone. I turn to see that Carroll again has the Quaffle at the other end of the pitch. This time, Ann Marie is unable to stop the ball from flying through the hoop.

Anjali takes the return and begins down the field. Suddenly, gasps come from the crowd. I know from experience that this likely means one of the Seekers has spotted the Snitch and hear noise from the box suggesting I'm correct. I am unsure about who has seen it, but I don't care. For now, the Quaffle is still in play. Unfortunately, Coors makes the mistake I avoid and Anjali is able to score again bringing the score to 40-10.

Gasps turn to groans and the energy from the stands dissipates. Whoever was following the Snitch must have lost it. Anjali, Mark, and I fall into a rhythm performing quite well. I make a few bad passes due to lingering pain in my arm. I start to get angry with myself after throwing a shot at the goal post which bounces off the side. I'm letting the team down.

Julie quickly gets Morgan and Mark heads back toward the goals. Suddenly, a bludger smacks the handle of Mark's brooms barely missing the fingers of his hand. Mark goes into a wild spin. Remarkably, he holds on the Quaffle, and pulls out before getting another goal. That's how I should be playing. I'm good at this game, and I need to show it.

Shortly, I get my chance. Carroll is being swarmed by Krumpet and Anjali and sees an open pass to Henderson. I see a chance. As Carroll makes the pass, I take off and the world becomes a blur as I pick up speed. I'm only conscious of my speed and the movement of the Quaffle. I tilt slightly and pick up speed. If I don't make this, they will score again. And I catch it right in front of Henderson's hands.

I pull up into a loop and flip over at the top heading the opposite direction I came from, straight toward the goals. I maintain speed and shoot for the right post. To my surprise, it makes it. I feel fantastic. "Way to go, man!" Mark calls as he joins me just before the ball is returned to play. I know that one of the cheers in the stands is from Patricia. I know one is from Kathryn, and I hope one is from Linor. Maybe she still supports me. Probably not. Of course, I know her brother isn't cheering, but I know he liked it. That makes me very happy.

When the stands again build energy for a Snitch sighting, the score is 70-20. I am in possession of the Quaffle when I see a glimmer flash in front of me shortly followed by two blurs, the blue one slightly ahead.

I am still focused when the stands erupt into cheers. A whistle blows, the game is over, and Jillian calls "RAVENCLAW WINS, 170-20!" My serious game face fades into a grin as I come out of game focus. I swoop over to Morrison and join my team in celebration. I love this part of Quidditch. Celebrating with the team and knowing that you've played well. It's an undeniable sense of achievement. I was part of this win. I played my part, and we killed. As of right now, we're the team to watch. Sure it's only been one game, but that doesn't matter.

We return to the changing rooms in a state of euphoria. Professor Mulligan walks in to congratulate us accompanied by Madame Pomfrey who examines my arm. "I can't believe you continued playing with this!" she scolds before performing a better fix with her own wand. "You did fairly well with that spell, however, for someone who is inexperienced."

"Thanks?"

"Let me see it before you continue playing next time!"

"I wasn't planning on a next time."

"Humph," is all she says before she turns and leaves. When she's gone, I join the team in recounted some of the great moment of the game, including my interception. One by one the team leaves, and, as usual, I hold back by myself wanting to avoid the crowd leading the team back to the common room. Mark hangs back with me.

"Go celebrate with your girl, I'll catch up."

"You sure?"

"Yes, Mark. Go." I finish changing and lock my broom in the cabinet at the pitch. When I head out from the pitch I get a sudden strike of déjà vu. James is waiting for me.

"Nice steal," he says.

"Did you hang back to tell me that?" Because it's definitely okay if he did. I've been toying for a while about how I feel about him. I don't really know why, though. For the first time, I have serious feelings for a person, and he's a guy. So that's that.

The feelings are definitely serious. He's on my mind all of the time. I don't even know him, and what I do know isn't good. But I can't shake this feeling that there is something good in there. He wants to help his sister. That has to mean something.

"Yeah, and something else," he says shaking me from my thoughts. Of course the first thing I think is that he's going to tell me he likes me back. Then I realize that I'm being stupid.

"What?" Real suave, Jones.

"Well, you know that my dad isn't doing too well." I can see in his eyes that that's hard to say. "I don't think he has much time left."

"I'm sorry."

"Not your fault, but the reason I'm telling you this is because when he dies, Linor isn't going to have anyone left." Oh, it's about her. I get angry at myself for being disappointed. "You're getting to her. You're almost there. You can't give up. She's going to need someone when this all goes down."

"Do you have someone?" Stupid! Do you want to sound like a creeper? I feel like a complete idiot.

"Worry about Linor. I can take care of myself." He leaves. I walk back to the dorm a swirl of emotions. I'm still on a high from the game. I feel like I may have screwed things up with James. I feel like, maybe, I haven't, like maybe I've taken a step in the right direction. I feel like I need to focus on Linor, she needs me right now. I feel like I really don't want to deal with the party when I get back to the common room.

"Oh, there you are." I look up to see Patricia leaving the castle. "I wanted to congratulate you before I leave. It was a great game."

"Thanks," I say with a smile.

"Are you okay? You seem a little frazzled."

"I am a little frazzled."

"Hm. Well remember what I told you. Don't let someone else decide if you're happy." How does she do it? How does she know that it's someone else making me upset? I hope that one day, I can have her insight. She's my hero.

"I will. Thanks for coming."

"I wouldn't miss it. Good night." There's a lot my parents don't know. They don't know that I excel at a wizard sport. They don't know that I don't need them or that I have someone else. They never fought for what they want, but I'm going to. I'm going to fight for Linor. I'm going to fight for James, and I'm going to fight to be happy. And, I'm going to succeed.


End file.
